GIFT  OF 

PROFESSOR    C,A,  KOF3IC 


•UNITED  STATES  (&IRLS 


Across  tljc  Atlantic. 


GIFT  OP 

PROFESSOR    C,A,  KOFOIO 


TO  THE  THREE 

WHO  IN  YOUTH  DIRECTED  THE  THREE  PARTS  OF  HER  NATURE  IN 
WAYS  OF  RELIGION,  LEARNING  AND  HEALTH 

TO 

H.  HARVEY,  D.  D.,  PROFESSOR  AT  MADISON  UNIVERSITY, 

S.  B.  WOOLWORTH,  LL.  D.,  SEC.  BOARD  OF  REGENTS,  ALBANY, 

C.  GREEN,  PHYSICIAN  AT  HOMER,  N.  Y., 

THIS  BOOK  IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  BY  ONE  OF  THE 
THREE   UNITED   STATES   GIRLS, 

MARIA  WELCH  HARRIS. 


MS16897 


Truair,  Smith  &  Bruce,  Printers  and  Binders, 

"Journal  Office,1'  Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

1876. 


• 

PAGE. 

THE  OCEAN  VOYAGE, g 

GLASGOW  AND  AYR, x  5 

SCOTTISH  LAKES, 20 

STIRLING,  EDINBURG  AND  MELROSE, , 28 

LONDON, 35 

PARIS, 52 

SWITZERLAND, 69 

PASS  TETE  NOIRE  TO  MARTIGNY, 83 

CASTLE  OF  CHILLON.     LACUSTRINE  CITIES.* : 

THE  AAR  AND  JUNGFRAU, 87 

THE  HOME  OF  TELL, 97 

LUCERNE, 101 

MUNICH, in 

INNSPRUCK  INTO  ITALY, , 119 

VENICE, 126 

FLORENCE, 142 

NAPLES,* 150 

ROME, 168 

NORTHERN  ITALY, 187 

HOMEWARD  BOUND, 192 


*  ILLUSTRATIONS  OPPOSITE  PAGE  84.—  1.  Chamois.    2.  Castle  of  Chillon. 

ILLUSTRATION,— 5.  (Opposite  page  108,)  Mold  of  Dea4  Man  found  at  Pompeii, 


BREVITY  is  the  soul  of  wit,  and  it  is  also  a  desirable  characteristic  in 
the  preface  of  a  book ;  but  the  writer  can  scarcely  permit  the  opportu- 
nity to  pass  without  a  few  words  to  the  friends  for  whom  this  volume 
was  prepared.  A  package  of  letters  is  stored  away  in  the  secret  drawer 
of  one  of  the  Three,  kind  words  are  treasured  in  the  storehouse  of  Mem- 
ory, and  Imagination  accompanies  these  pages  to  the  pleasant  homes 
where  teachers,  and  pupils,  and  the  friends  of  all  days,  read  and  talk 
of  the  wanderings  of  their  independent  friend.  Accept  most  heartfelt 
thanks  for  your  prompt  replies  and  generous  offers,  and  be  assured  that 
labor  has  been  amply  rewarded,  as  is  always  the  case  with  the  labor 
of  love. 


THE  OCEAN  VOYAGE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

T  was  at  the  close  of  spring-time,  1873,  that  we  United 
States  Girls  left  our  homes  to  become  a  party  of  ad- 
venturers.     We  did  not  call  ourselves  triumviri,  for  not  a 
man  entered  our  ranks  ;   we  were  scarcely  triumfemince,  for 
one  of  our  number  could  not  yet  claim  the  name  of  woman  ; 
but  we  were,  nevertheless,  three,  crossing  the  broad  Atlantic 
to  visit  the  Old  World. 

We  did  not  represent  many  of  the  professions  so  actively  pursued  in 
Uncle  Sam's  dominions,  for  one  had  not  reached  the  age  to  choose  her 
walk  in  life,  and  one  was  a  lady  of  leisure ;  one  of  the  three  had  for  a 
score  of  years  borne  the  name  of  teacher. 

We  adopted  as  our  watchwords,  Independence  and  Self-Reliance,  and, 
with  sachels  and  shawl-straps,  boldly  entered  upon  our  journey.  We 
were  among  the  first  to  go  on  board  the  California,  and  we  lingered 
upon  the  deck  to  make  a  survey  of  our  fellow-passengers,  who  came  in 
such  numbers  that  we  feared  for  the  capacity  of  the  ship  to  harbor  them 
all  comfortably  ;  but  when  the  bell  sounded  as  a  signal  for  departure,  the 
crowd  went  toward  the  land,  and  the  few  remained  to  embark  upon  the 
bosom  of  the  deep.  The  day  was  all  that  human  beings  could  ask, — 
bright  and  beautiful,  giving  promise  of  future  good  to  both  land  and 
sea  —  of  spring-time  and  harvest  to  the  one,  of  prosperous  voyage  and 
2 


10  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

safe  return  to  the  other.  The  people  on  the  shore  waved  a  long  adieu, 
to  which  the  voyagers  responded  heartily.  Slowly  but  surely  we  moved 
away,  and  soon  the  connection  with  those  upon  land  was  only  by  the 
unseen  bonds  that  unite  kindred  hearts,  however  wide  they  may  be 
separated.  Beautiful  beyond  description  was  the  first  day's  sail ;  —  calm 
and  peaceful  was  the  deep,  and  clear  and  bright  was  the  dome  of  heaven. 
The  sun  sank  peacefully  behind  the  waters,  and  the  moon  and  stars 
looked  familiarly  upon  us.  With  a  feeling  of  trust  we  went  to  our 
berths,  and  we  said  within  our  hearts  that  it  was  a  good  beginning. 

Equally  promising  was  the  following  day  —  the  first  day  of  the  Sum- 
mer—  and  it  was  also  the  Sabbath  day  upon  the  sea  as  it  was  upon  the 
land.  The  church  bell  sounded  at  the  usual  hour,  not,  however,  from 
lofty  tower,  sending  its  peal  through  hill  and  dale,  but  calling  in  unmis- 
takable tones  to  assemble  for  the  worship  of  God.  Closing  the  eyes  to 
all  evidences  of  the  fitness  of  the  room  for  administering  bodily  food, 
we  were  permitted  to  receive  spiritual  food  at  the  hands  of  a  pastor  from 
the  sister  State  of  Kentucky.  The  remainder  of  the  day  was  not  par- 
ticularly marked  in  its  observance  as  the  one  in  seven,  but  was  pleasantly 
spent  in  friendly  intercourse. 

The  hours  thus  far  had  been  bright,  golden  ones,  and  the  vessel  seemed 
a  miniature  world  sent  adrift  on  the  ocean  of  space  —  sailing  on  and  on 
to  find  its  orbit  far  beyond  the  lesser  stars  which  dotted  its  course  when 
first  it  was  launched.  No  excitement  disturbed  the  breast  of  the 
passengers  save  when  the  report  became  current  that  a  lady  with 
children  had  left  her  well-filled  trunks  in  the  hands  of  a  careful  husband 
and  they  were  still  safe  on  dry  land.  The  question  was  freely  discussed 
how  they  should  manage  to  procure  a  change  of  garments  and  all  the 
little  conveniences  of  travel.  The  sachels  of  the  three  contributed 
something  to  alleviate  the  perplexities  of  the  occasion.  The  monoto- 
nous round  of  chit-chat  and  game,  and  the  measured  walk  over  the  deck 
of  the  vessel  was  occasionally  varied  by  the  sound  of  the  bell  at  the 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  \  I  I 

regular  hours  for  meals.  First  of  all,  at  7  A.  M.,  it  invited  to  partake 
of  the  wholesome  oatmeal  served  in  various  ways  —  in  porridge  or  gruel, 
with  milk  or  sugar,  and  at  the  table  of  the  dining-room  or  in  the  berth 
of  the  state-room  ;  at  8 : 30  to  breakfast ;  9 : 30,  children's  breakfast ; 
12,  lunch  ;  i,  children's  dinner  ;  4,  dinner  ;  6,  children's  tea ;  7,  tea ;  9  to 
11,  supper.  To  these  numerous  calls  the  response  was  ever  ready,  and 
the  long  lines  of  tables  were  crowded  to  the  utmost  with  the  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  first-class  passengers.  But  on  the  fourth  morning 
there  was  a  change  in  the  state  of  affairs,  and  the  teacher  was  waked  at 
4  A.  M.  by  the  smaller  third  of  their  party  ".calling  for  New  York,"  as 
they  say  on  shipboard.  Hastening  to  assist  the  sick  and  afflicted,  she 
soon  learned  that  chanty  begins  at  home,  so  she  and  her  charge  lay  down 
together,  and  comforted  and  consoled  each  other  to  the  best  of  their 
ability.  There  was  no  sunshine  that  day,  only  clouds  and  rain  and  dis- 
mal cold  weather  —  thermometer  at  35°.  But  a  blessing  on  the  pure  air 
of  heaven,  how  reviving  it  was,  and  is,  and  ever  will  be,  especially  to  the 
sea-sick.  The  deck  was  almost  deserted,  except  by  those  on  duty,  and  a 
few  who  still  had  sufficient  strength  to  seek  the  fresh  sea  air.  A  strong 
arm  was  offered  at  the  door,  and  a  chair  was  placed  in  a  spot  somewhat 
sheltered  from  the  rain,  and  it  was  held  for  an  hour  in  spite  of  wind  and 
storm.  No,  we  retract,  the  wind  blew  the  chair  and  its  occupant  over 
upon  the  deck,  and  a  seat  in  the  form  of  a  beam  was  taken.  We  must 
all  yield  to  the  elements  when  in  a  state  of  active  exercise,  especially 
if  they  are  assisted  by  life-exhausting  nausea,  so  with  all  the  grace  attain- 
able under  the  circumstances,  she  descended  to  the  regions  below,  and 
they  saw  her  no  more  that  day.  We  had  been  sailing  in  a  northerly 
direction  in  a  line  nearly  parallel  with  the  shore  of  our  own  loved  land, 
and  off  the  banks  of  Newfoundland  we  saw  the  last  living  creature 
whose  home  is  not  on  the  bosom  of  the  deep,  two  of  Mother  Carey's 
chickens  flying  out  in  quest  of  food. 


12  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

We  received  ample  compensation  for  early  rising  on  Wednesday,  the 
fifth  day  of  the  voyage.     We  hastily  responded  to  the  call  to  come  upon 
deck  and  see  an  iceberg,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  sight  will  be  a  joy 
forever.     We   were  five  miles  off  Cape  Race,  lat.  45  deg.  i  min.,  long. 
5 1  deg.  56  min.     Airy  and  white,  it  seemed  a  creation  of  fancy,  and  we 
scarcely  dared  turn  our  eyes  for  fear  that  when  we  looked  back  again  it 
should  have  gone  from  our  sight  forever.     On  it  sailed,  like  some  mon- 
ster cathedral  raising  its  lofty  spire  high  toward  heaven's  gates.     The 
hues  were  varied  as  the  sunlight  fell  upon  it  from  different  directions 
(this  was  about  the  only  glimpse  of  sunshine  we  had  for  seven  days),  and 
it  assumed  a  variety  of  forms  as  we  left  it  in  the  distance.     Can  Stras- 
bourg or  Milan  equal  this  creation  of  nature's  architect  ?     This  was  but 
one  of  a  number,  and  soon  we  were  surrounded  by  icebergs  both  great 
and  small.     One  seemed  an  Esquimaux  hut  with  a  smaller  one  by  its 
side,  one  a  noble  fort  manned  by  imaginary  heroes,  stiff,  stern  and  cold, 
standing  at  the  post  of  duty  till  their  life-blood  flowed  away.     In  the 
varying  light,  dark  evergreens  rose  in  the  background,  and  the  picture 
was  complete.    Thejargest  one  was  thought  to  be  about  two  hundred 
feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  ship. 
Day  after  day  we  were  only  occasionally  assured  that  there  was  a 
living  being  in  existence  except  the  four  hundred  persons  on  board  the 
steamer  California,  and  that  by  the  sight  of  a  far-distant  sail.     Oh,  how 
broad  the  Atlantic  is !  —  yet  we  did  not  feel  ourselves  so  insignificant  as 
we  had  supposed  we  should  when  upon  its  bosom,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, as  we  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  ship  she  seemed  to  reach  from 
horizon  to  horizon,  and  her  masts  and  sails  to  take  a  strong  hold  upon 
heaven.     We  felt  that  man  had  been  almost  enabled  to  hold  the  ocean 
with  an  iron  hand,  and  to  enforce  submission  by  the  breath  of  steam. 
But  the  grandeur  and-  the  beauty  of  the  ocean,  mortal  need  not  attempt 
to  describe,  nor  pen  to  paint.     Imagination  cannot  picture  it ;  every  mo- 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  13 

ment  it  changes,  every  wave  is  different.  The  grandest  sight  was 
reserved  for  the  last.  As  we  approached  the  shores  of  the  Old  World, 
and  we  thought  the  land  would  hold  out  her  arms  to  receive  us,  the 
winds  and  the  waves  seemed  determined  to  retain  us  in  their  power. 
They  rocked  us  so  vigorously  that  sleep  was  driven  from  our  eyelids  for 
the  first  time  since  we  had  trusted  ourselves  to  their  care.  Many  made 
their  appearance  with  anxious  looks,  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  commo- 
tion. The  scene  was  more  than  beautiful.  Once  again  the  sun  had 
made  his  appearance  in  the  midst  of  white,  fleecy  clouds,  chasing  each 
other  over  the  bluest  sky  that  the  hand  of  Nature  can  paint  —  a  real 
October  sky.  The  waves  lifted  their  foaming  crests,  then  bowed  as  if  in 
silent  adoration,  then  melted  away  in  flecks  of  foam  and  emerald  green 
too  lovely  to  imitate  Toward  the  sun  a  sheet  of  silver  sheen  overspread 
the  whole,  and  we  seemed  to  be  sailing  on  a  sea  of  glass.  Nature  never 
seems  complete  without  a  thing  of  life  in  her  midst ;  and  so  the  sea-gulls 
in  great  numbers  gloried  in  this  bright  scene,  and  presented  their  ebon 
bodies  borne  upon  white  wings.  The  passengers  had  been  tossed  about 
until  they  were  afraid  to  move,  and  placed  themselves  in  some  position 
which  they  supposed  secure  ;  but  alas  for  the  fallacy  of  human  hopes ! 
A  gentleman  who  was  very  gallant  in  bracing  himself  to  steady  a  lady, 
found  himself  seated  upon  the  floor  by  her  side  ;  one  young  lady,  finding 
a  wave  in  rather  too  close  proximity  to  her  skirts,  to  save  herself  from  a 
wetting,  swept  books  and  papers  from  the  lap  of  her  friend  and  sent 
them  flying  in  all  directions.  It  was  too  much  to  see  the  labor  of  hours 
swept  away  in  a  breath,  so  with  a  frantic  rush  she  went  after  them. 
Backward  and  forward  they  rolled,  letters,  chairs,  men,  women  and 
water,  (only  one  sheet  sailed  away  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  ;  did  it 
reach  its  destination  on  the  American  shores  ?)  All  of  a  sudden  the 
sound  of  the  engine  was  hushed,  and  the  waves  rolled  higher  than  ever ; 
the  vessel  was  turned  about,  like  a  steed  at  the  will  of  his  rider,  and 


j^  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

although  seeming  to  resist  to  the  utmost,  it  was  still  forced  to  obey  the 
guiding  hand.  Now  came  the  solution  of  the  matter  ;  owing  to  the 
entire  obscuring  of  the  sun's  rays  for  seven  days,  only  dead  reckoning 
could  be  taken  of  the  ship's  course,  and  when  our  captain  expected  to 
see  the  green  land  of  Erin,  suddenly  emerging  from  a  blinding  fog,  he 
found  himself  just  off  the  shore  of  Tyree  island,  away  to  the  north  of 
Scotland,  and  in  danger  of  being  dashed  in  pieces  upon  her  rocky  coast ; 
so  in  haste  he  gave  the  order  to  stop  the  motion  of  the  vessel,  and  we 
were  thrown  into  the  trough  of  the  sea  and  became  the  plaything  of  the 
waves  for  a  time.  A  day's  more  sail  brought  us  to  Moville,  where  we 
put  off  passengers  at  the  dead  of  night,  under  a  broad,  full  moon,  which 
was  just  appearing  in  sight. 

"Blessings  brighten  as  they  take  their  flight,"  is  a  lesson  we  learn 
early  in  life,  but  we  realized  on  Wednesday,  the  nth  day  of  June,  that 
they  brighten  still  more  as  they  come  back  to  sight.  There  is  scarcely 
any  night  in  this  northern  latitude  at  this  season  of  the  year,  so  we  had 
not  thought  to  be  up  with  the  morning,  but  we  had  hoped  to  be  on  deck 
when  our  steamer  entered  the  Clyde.  Our  first  sight  of  "  Bonnie  Scot- 
land," however,  was  Ailsa  Craig,  a  mountain  of  stone  rising  from  the 
water  almost  directly  in  our  course.  This  black  rock  was  first  presented 
to  sight  as  if  to  bring  us  back  by  degrees  to  our  lost  estate  ;  then  Holy 
Island  rose  before  us,  a  rock  to  be  sure,  but  picturesque  in  form  and 
having  its  barenness  covered  with  a  velvety  green  robe  of  moss.  Had  we 
forgotten  how  the  land  looked,  the  green  grass  of  our  native  soil  ?  or  had 
these  far-away  coasts  borrowed  the  emerald  green  of  the  sea  and  be- 
decked themselves  for  our  landing  ? 

Eleven  days  at  sea  had  made  the  earth  a  paradise,  and  we  were  in  a 
state  of  perfect  delight.  We  were  introduced  to  the  mountains  of  Scot- 
land by  a  sight  of  Goat  Hill,  rising  also  from  the  water,  its  base  and 
sides  covered  with  moss  and  evergreens,  and  its  peak  high  up  among 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  15 

the  clouds.  Mt.  Stuart,  home  of  the  Marquis  of  Bute,  the  "  Lothaire  " 
of  Disraeli,  and  Rothsay  Castle,  where  the  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  was  kept 
a  prisoner,  showed  us  what  art  can  do  when  combined  with  nature,  and 
strongly  reminded  us  that  we  were  in  the  land  of  Scott,  whose  song  and 
story  have  made  the  world  familiar  with  these  interesting  localities. 

Fairly  within  the  land,  the  banks  upon  each  side  presented  a  view 
never  to  be  forgotten  ;  bays,  harbors,  yachts,  light-houses  and  castles 
bewildered  and  almost  entranced  us.  The  first  British  engine  gave  us  a 
shrill  welcome  to  their  shores  ;  handkerchiefs  waved  a  glad  greeting,  and 
the  pack  of  hounds  on  the  beautiful  lawn  wagged  their  tails  with  -delight. 
The  larks  sang  the  old,  old  song  as  they  settled  in  the  branches  of  the 
trees,  which  also  told  the  story  of  age.  But  the  sad  story  of  centuries 
ago  was  forcibly  brought  to  mind  at  sight  of  Dumbarton  Castle.  We 
knew  that  we  must  meet  at  every  turn  mementoes  of  the  unfortunate 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  whose  fate  had  brought  a  tear  in  childhood  and 
many  a  sigh  in  later  years.  This  day  of  sight-seeing  was  rendered  per- 
fect by  a  view,  indistinct  though  it  was,  of  the  friend  of  old,  Ben  Lomond. 
He  had  his  nightcap  on,  as  usual,  and  the  rusts  of  ages  crept  slowly 
over  his  brow. 

All  pleasant  things  must  have  an  end,  so  it  was  with  our  sail  up  the 
Clyde.  Just  before  we  reached  the  place  of  landing  we  met  a  steamer 
bound  for  the  American  shores  ;  the  hearts  of  the  three  went  along  with 
her,  but  their  faces  looked  toward  the  land  of  the  East,  where  they 
hoped  to  wander  under  Italian  skies  and  through  fields  of  snow  during 
the  days  of  the  coming  twelvemonth. 


GLASGOW  AND  AYR. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HE  royal  authorities  acknowledged  the  independence  of  the 
United  Three,  and  sent  them  on  shore  without  deigning  to 
notice  the  sachels  and  shawl-straps.  Immediately  begins  the 
search  for  things  new  and  old.  We  see  at  once  that  the  houses 
stand  on  a  solid  foundation,  and  that  there  is  a  great  sameness 
in  form  and  color ;  not  a  white  house,  not  a  house  of  wood  — 
all  stone  or  brick,  and  dingy  brown.  The  people  too,  stand  on  a  sure 
foundation  —  that  of  honesty ;  they  take  the  world  slow  and  easy,  and 
are  never  too  much  hurried  to  be  courteous  and  kind.  If  you  ask  a 
question  which  they  do  not  understand,  they  "  beg  your  pardon,"  and  if 
you  require  a  favor  they  "  thank  you." 

The  modes  of  conveyance  looked  somewhat  strange,  the  fancy  Han- 
som cabs  and  the  cozy  wagonets,  drawn  each  by  one  noble-looking  horse. 
In  but  very  few  instances  are  seen  two  horses  working  side  by  side  ;  it 
is  either  one  or  three.  In  one  of  these  wagonets  (an  open  omnibus  for 
four)  we  went  over  the  city  of  Glasgow,  with  one  stout  Scotch  horse. 
We  visited  the  Cathedral,  famous  for  its  antiquity  and  for  its  stained 
glass  windows,  which  are  modern,  one  having  been  presented  by  Queen 
Victoria,  which  cost  six  thousand  dollars.  The  Necropolis,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  cemeteries,  stands  near  the  Cathedral,  a  monument  to 
John  Knox  crowning  the  summit  of  the  high  hill.  Now  begin  to  be 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  1 7 

repeated  the  names  which  were  learned  in  childhood,  but  which  the 
learner  knew  not  where  to  locate  ;  for  as  we  rode  along  the  Bromislaw, 
one  of  the  finest  river-side  drives  in  Europe,  we  were  reminded  that  here 
once  lived  two  famous  Scotch  characters,  who  differ  greatly  in  the  repu- 
tation which  follows  them,  as  they  doubtless  did  in  the  lives  so  long 
past  —  Rob  Roy  and  Robert  Burns.  One  beautiful  feature  of  this  city, 
which  is  second  only  in  Scotland,  are  the  crescent  parks,  smiling  and 
beaming  like  the  new  moon  on  all  who  come  within  their  sight.  People 
seem  to  live  in  the  streets,  as  one  might  judge  by  the  crowds  which  fill 
them.  The  travelers  learned  to  use  the  Scotch  umbrella,  and  did  not 
forget  it  during  their  stay  in  Glasgow,  for  it  rained  and  the  sun  shone  so 
much  together  that  they  became  inseparable  companions. 

From  Glasgow  it  is  customary  to  make   many  pleasant  excursions, 
and,  perhaps,  first  among  the  number  is  that  to  Ayr,  the  home  of  Burns. 

"  Auld  Ayr,  whom  ne'er  a  town  surpasses 
For  honest  men  and  bonnie  lasses." 

We  could  but  draw  a  contrast,  standing  in  the  ticket  office  at  the  depot 
in  Glasgow.  So  many  minutes  before  the  departure  of  the  train  a  door 
was  unfastened  and  the  crowd  came  in  single  file,  passing  slowly  along, 
almost  as  at  a  funeral.  No  one  jostled  his  neighbor — no  one  pressed 
by  to  procure  his  ticket  first ;  altogether  it  was  a  new  sight,  and  we 
said,  "  Sloo,  but  sure  Scotch." 

When  we  left  Glasgow  we  made  our  first  acquaintance  with  European 
cars,  an  acquaintance  which,  though  continued  through  the  next  twelve 
months,  never  tempted  us  to  transfer  our  preferences  from  the  more 
convenient  and  agreeable  ones  of  home  travel.  The  coaches  all  open  in 
the  centre  and  upon  both  sides,  but  the  doors  are  not  of  much  service 
most  of  the  time,  for  they  are  closed  and  fastened  before  the  train  starts, 
and  the  conductor  is  only  occasionally  seen  walking  past  the  window  and 
looking  in  upon  us  as  though  we  were  prisoners  who  needed  watching, 
3 


1 8  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

At  the  station  he  takes  his  time  for  unlocking  the  door  which  is  on  the 
side  of  the  depot.  On  almost  every  train  there  are  three  classes  of  cars, 
so  that  those  who  wish  to  travel  in  ease,  or  who  think  their  family 
unapproachable,  almost  royal,  can  take  the  first-class  cars  ;  those  whose 
money  has  been  hard-earned  and  must  go  a  great  way  can  take  the  third- 
class  cars,  if  they  can  be  blind  to  their  immediate  surroundings  and  have 
their  conversation  with  the  new  scenes  in  nature  through  which  they  are 
constantly  passing.  Those  that  are  neither  one  nor  the  other  can  take 
the  middle  class,  so  everybody  may  be  suited. 

Through  Paisley,  whose  shawls  had  not  much  attraction  for  us,  in  a 
southeasterly  direction,  toward  the  coast  along  which  we  had  sailed  when 
we  were  leaving  the  Atlantic  and  upon  which  we  hoped  to  cast  our  fare- 
well glance  when  we  should  embark  again  after  a  year  of  wandering,  and 
the  home  of  the  poet  is  reached,  the  poet  who,  in  his  short  life  of  less 
than  thirty-eight  years,  furnishes  the  example  of  a  single  man  who  has 
rendered  classical  his  native  tongue  by  the  outpouring  of  poetry  and 
song.  A  short  survey  of  the  High  Street  of  Ayr,  and  in  the  little 
wagonet  we  hasten  on  to  scenes  more  closely  connected  with  the  hero 
of  the  hour.  Two  miles  through  a  broad  street,  which  June  had  made 
green  in  oft-returning  summer,  and  which  Burns  keeps  green  in  the 
memories  of  his  admirers,  we  pause  before  the  walls  which  echoed  his 
first  cry,  and  swift  as  Time  the  years  of  his  childhood  glided  away,  and 
in  maturer  years  we  plainly  heard  him  say : 

"  To  you  I  sing  in  simple  Scottish  lays 
The  lowly  strains  in  life's  scenes." 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— Ayr,  the  Home  of  Burns.  High  Street  with  the  Braes  of  the  River  Doon, 
two  miles  and  a  half  from  Ayr,  on  the  left,  and  the  old  Bridge  of  Doon.  which  figures  so  promi- 
nently in  Tarn  o'  Shanter's  flight,  on  the  right.  Statues  of  Tarn  o'Shanter  and  Souter  Johnnie  in 
a  grotto  in  the  Cemetery  of  the  new  Church  of  Alloway.  Tarn  o'  Shanter's  Inn.  New  Bridge 
of  Ayr  and  Old  Bridge  of  Ayr.  Burns'  Cottage,  where  the  Poet  was  born,  with  the  Relics  of 
Burns  — his  Bust  and  Portrait  and  the  Bible  he  gave  his  Highland  Mary,  on  the  left,  and  the 
Monument  of  Burns,  sixty  feet  high,  raised  in  1830,  on  the  right.  Robert  Burns  and  Highland 
Mary  with  the  Banks  of  Doon  (Monument  in  distance)  on  the  left,  and  the  Old  Church  of  Allo- 
way, scene  of  the  Witches'  Dance  in  the  Poem,  Tarn  o'  Shanter,  on  the  right. 


*a 

TO  M(Hi>?  >-.' 


'S  AtAflT-E'O'MIWE. 


'II  mi  ow  AIBUMS  TO  WE  ENO 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  IQ 

And  we  heard  him  describe  the  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  when 

"  Wi'  joy  unfeigned  brothers  and  sisters  meet, 

And  each  for  others'  welfare  kindly  spiers ; 
The  jovial  hours,  swift- winged,  unnoticed  fleet ; 

Each  tells  the  uncos  that  he  sees  or  hears. 
The  parents,  partial,  eye  their  hopeful  years, 

Anticipation  forward  points  the  view  ; 
The  mother  wi'  her  needle  and  her  shears 

Gars  auld  claes  look  amaist  as  weel's  the  new ; 

The  father  mixes  a'  wi'  admonition  due." 

Our  hearts  beat  in  sympathy  when  we  remembered  the  words : 

"  From  scenes  like  these  old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs, 

That  makes  her  loved  at  home,  revered  abroad. 
Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kings, — 
An  honest  man  's  the  noblest  work  of  God !  " 

Our  thoughts  ascended  in  the  prayer : 

"  O  Thou  who  poured  the  patriotic  tide 

That  streamed  thro'  Wallace's  undaunted  heart, 
Who  dared  to  nobly  stem  tyrannic  pride, 
Or  nobly  die,  the  second  glorious  part, 
Oh,  never,  never  Scotia's  realm  desert." 

Burns'  cottage  is  now  used  as  a  small  public  house.  Half  a  mile  fur- 
ther and  again  we  stood  before  an  old  churchyard,  and  in  memory,  aided 
by  imagination,  went  back  to  the  time  of  Tarn  o'  Shanter,  when  he  had 
lingered  at  the  old  inn  with  Souter  Johnnie,  till 

"  The  time  approaches  when  Tarn  maun  ride. 
That  hour,  o'  night's  black  arch  the  key-stane, 
That  dreary  hour  he  mounts  his  beast  in. 
Weel  mounted  on  his  gray  mare  Meg, 
A  better  never  lifted  leg, 
Tarn  skelpit  on  through  dust  and  mire, 
Despising  wind  and  rain  and  fire ; 
Whiles  glow'ring  round  wi'  prudent  cares, 
Lest  bogles  catch  him  unawares, 
Kirk  Alloway  was  drawing  nigh, 
Where  ghaists  and  houlets  nightly  cry. 
*    *    *    Tarn  saw  an  unco  sight, 
Warlocks  and  witches  in  a  dance. 
There  sat  auld  Nick  in  shape  o'  beast, 
A  loosie  tyke,  black,  grim,  and  large, 
To  gie  them  music  was  his  charge. 
Coffins  stood  round  like  open  presses, 
That  showed  the  dead  in  their  last  dresses, 


2O  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

Wi'  mair  so  horrible  and  awfu' 
Which  even  to  name  wad  be  unlawfu'. 

"  Tarn  stood  like  one  bewitched,"  then 

"  Laist  his  reason  a'thegether 
And  roars  out,  "  Weel  done,  cutty-sark!" 
And  in  an  instant  all  was  dark  ; 
And  scarcely  had  he  Maggie  rallied, 
When  out  the  hellish  legion  sallied." 

Feeling  as  though  the  witches  were  after  us,  we  rode  on  to  the  "  running 
stream  they  dare  na'  cross,"  where 

"  Nannie,  far  before  the  rest, 
Hard  upon  noble  Maggie  prest, 
And  flew  at  Tarn  wi'  furious  ettle ; 
But  little  wist  she  Maggie's  metal. 
Ae  spring  brought  off  her  master  hale, 
But  left  behind  her  ain  gray  tail." 

This  was  by  the  Auld  Brig  o'  Boon,  and  we  rode  by  its  braes  where  the 
poet  said, — 

"  Oft  hae  I  roved  by  bonnie  Doon, 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twine  ; 
And  ilka  bird  sang  o'  its  luve, 
And  fondly  sae  did  I  o'  mine." 

Last  of  all  we  visited  the  monument  erected  in  1820  to  the  one  whose 
words  are  his  own  best  monument.  Here  are  preserved  many  memen- 
toes of  Robert  Burns  and  his  Highland  Mary,  of  whom  he  wrote : 

"  The  golden  hours  on  angel  wings 

Flew  o'er  me  and  my  dearie ; 
For  dear  to  me  as  light  and  life 
Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary." 

Here  is  his  library  and  the  very  Bible  he  gave  to  her.  All  of  a  sudden, 
as  we  went  round  a  projecting  corner,  there  sat  Tarn  o'  Shanter, 

"  And  at  his  elbow  Souter  Johnny, 
His  ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  crony," 

so  natural  that  we  were  tempted  to  flee  away,  feeling  that  the  witches 
had  not  finished  their  work  in  this  noted  town.  We  left  Ayr  saying : 

"  Read  the  names  that  know  not  death, 

Few  nobler  ones  than  Burns'  are  there, 
And  few  have  worn  a  greener  wreath 
Than  that  which  binds  his  hair." 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  21 

A  delightful  excursion  to  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde,  where  nature  plays 
most  wonderful  freaks  in  rowing  her  waters  to  the  sea  —  "a  fall  of  a  few 
feet,  a  fall  of  about  thirty  feet,  a  cataract  of  ninety  feet,  and  a  grand 
final  leap,"  —  where  Romance  circles  with  rainbows  of  light  the  dark 
retreat  of  the  chief  of  Scottish  Chiefs,  Sir  William  Wallace  ;  and  to 
Lanark,  where,  in  an  Established  Church  of  1777,  a  colossal  statue  of  this 
same  chief  is  elevated  high  over  the  entrance,  as  he  stands  high  in  their 
records  of  fame  ;  and  we  leave  Glasgow,  to  return  no  more  till  the  year 
again  comes  around. 


SCOTTISH   LAKES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

(COTLAND  acknowledges  Rob  Roy  as  one  of  her  most 
celebrated  characters,  and  everywhere  we  were  met  by  re- 
minders of  this  bold  mountaineer  as  we  passed  through  the 
regions  where 

"  The  eagle  he  was  lord  above,  and  Rob  was  lord  below." 

The  journey  was  fraught  with  interest  for  its  historical  asso- 
ciations, and  also  because 

"  It  was  so  wondrous  wild,  the  whole  sight  seemed 
The  scenery  of  some  fairy  dream." 

Under  very  favorable  circumstances  for  this  country,  we  took  a  steamer 
at  the  foot  of  Loch  Lomond.  No  fog  or  glaring  sunlight  interfered  with 
our  view,  and  beautiful  fleecy  clouds  sailed  in  the  blue  above  and  were 
mirrored  in  the  blue  below.  All  around  us  rose 

"  The  mountains  that  like  giants  stand 
To  sentinel  enchanted  land." 

As  we  glided  along  on  the  bosom  of  this  lovely  lake,  the  most  beautiful 
dissolving  views  were  presented,  and  before  we  could  fairly  take  in  one 
it  became  another,  each  more  pleasing  than  all  the  rest. 

"  The  rocky  summits,  split  and  rent, 
Formed  turret,  dome,  or  battlement, 
Or  seemed  fantastically  set 
With  cupola  or  minaret." 

The  ghost  of  Rob  Roy  seemed  to  haunt  the  entire  scene,  and  the  dark 
heather  and  the  broom  on  the  mountain  sides  to  be  evil  spirits  seeking 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  23 

whom  they  might  devour.  Many  of  the  Bens  "heaved  high  their 
forehead  bare"  in  apparent  veneration  for  their  hoary  brother,  Ben  Lo- 
mond, whose  aged  head  is  much  of  the  time  covered  with  the  white  cap 
which  served  as  a  signal  to  get  ready  the  Scotch  umbrellas.  We  were 
constantly  shut  in  by  those  many  mountains,  all  run  in  a  different  mold, 
some  lifting  a  huge  bare  peak  all  unadorned,  others  bearing  vegetation 
to  their  very  summits,  while  their  sides  were  varied  with  the  dark  moss 
growing  in  large  patches  here  and  there,  intermingled  with  the  broom, 
which  gives  great  variety  by  its  different  appearance  at  different  stages 
of  growth  —  bright  green  when  young,  and  becoming  very  dark,  and 
covered  in  time  of  blossoming  with  the  yellow  papilionaceous  flowers. 
The  numberless  little  islands  were  all  bowers  where  Cupid  might  dwell, 
and  the  names  of  many  of  them  very  appropriately  commence  with 
Inch,  giving  only  an  exaggerated  idea  of  their  baby  size.  Seventeen 
of  the  twenty-one  miles  where  this  romantic  lake  finds  for  itself  a  bed, 
winding  around  at  the  base  of  these  heathery  mountains,  receiving  to  its 
bosom  the  leaping,  sparkling  waterfalls,  taking  up  the  burns  hastening 
on  their  way  to  the  sea,  and  giving  frequent  glimpses  of  realms  little  less 
than  fairy  through  the  glens  and  dingles  on  its  sides,  —  seventeen  miles 
among  the  islands  Inchcruachan,  Inchgalbraith,  Inchtaranach,  and  all 
the  other  Inches,  from  the  wee  ones  with  scarcely  soil  for  a  single  tree  to 
find  root,  to  Inchlonaig,  where  are  still  growing  the  yew  trees  planted  by 
Robert  Bruce,  and  Inchmurrin,  the  largest  of  Lomond's  isles,  measuring 
a  mile  and  a  half  in  length  by  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  breadth,  where 
one  of  Scotland's  dukes  now  feeds  his  deer,  —  seventeen  miles  the 
U.  S.  G.  sailed  from  the  foot  of  the  lake,  where  the  Leven  takes  these 
waters  on  to  the  Clyde,  to  within  four  miles  of  its  head  where  it  receives 
Falloch  Water.  We  landed  at  Inversnaid  in  the  face  of  two  tall  Bens 
across  the  lake,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  Craigroyston  Cave,  where 
Rob  Roy  oft  retreated  to  hold  council  with  his  men.  At  Inversnaid  a 


24  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

fort  was  built  in  1715  to  overawe  the  Macgregors,  with  Rob  Roy  at  their 
head,  which  was  commanded  by  General  Wolfe  ;  but  now  the  peaceful 
Inversnaid  House  invites  the  traveler  to  roam  at  will  through  these 
romantic  regions,  and  to  rest  in  safety  within  its  walls,  without  fearing  to 
hear  the  sound  of  the  slogan  or  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Highland 
robber.  The  next  morning  our  omnibus  was  filled  with  twenty-two 
persons,  and,  drawn  by  four  horses,  we  rode  up  the  mountain  sides  in 
the  midst  of  heather  and  blue  bells,  and  saw  the  long-haired  cattle  and 
sheep  feeding  where  the  foot  of  man  could  scarcely  tread  ;  the  little 
lambs,  with  black  feet  and  noses,  frisked  and  played  as  only  lambs  can 
do ;  past  the  house  (a  small  part  of  which  remains)  where  Helen  Mac- 
gregor,  the  wife  of  Rob  Roy,  was  born  ;  by  the  side  of  Inversnaid  burn, 
which  throws  itself  down  to  Loch  Lomond  in  a  fall  of  thirty  feet ;  up 
and  on  beyond  wee  lochs  and  tarns,  five  miles  from  Loch  Lomond  to  Loch 
Katrine  and  the  lines  of  Wordsworth  to  the  Highland  girl  at  Inversnaid 
found  a  ready  response : 

"  Now  thanks  to  Heaven,  that  of  its  grace 
Hath  led  me  to  this  lovely  place ; 
Joy  have  I  had,  and  going  hence, 
I  bear  away  ray  recompense. 
In  spots  like  these  it  is  we  prize 
Our  memory,  feel  that  she  hath  eyes." 

The  ride  was  ended  at  Stronachlachar,  where, 

"  One  burnished  sheet  of  living  gold, 
Loch  Katrine  lay  beneath  us  rolled, 
In  all  her  length  far  winding  lay, 
With  promontory,  creek  and  bay, 
And  islands  that,  empurpled  bright, 
Floated  amid  the  livelier  light." 

Soon  we  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  dainty  little  steamer  Rob  Roy,  and 
were  in  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  country,  where  all  the  incidents  of  that 
beautiful  poem  seemed  to  be  re-enacted.  We  sailed  amid  "  islands  that, 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  2$ 

empurpled  bright,  floated  amid  the  livelier  light,"  and  as  we  approached 
Ellen's  Isle,  where 

"  The  wild-rose,  eglantine  and  broom 
Wasted  around  their  rich  perfume, 
The  birch  trees  wept  in  fragrant  balm, 
The  aspens  slept  beneath  the  calm, 
The  silver  light,  with  quivering  glance, 
Played  on  the  water's  still  expanse." 

We  heard  the  hunter  wind  his  horn, 

"  When  lo !  forth  starting  at  the  sound, 

From  underneath  an  aged  oak 

That  slanted  from  the  islet  rock, 

A  damsel  guider  of  its  way, 

A  little  skiff  shot  to  the  bay 

That  round  the  promontory  steep 

Led  its  deep  line  in  graceful  sweep." 
"  The  boat  had  touched  this  silver  strand 

Just  as  the  Hunter  left  his  stand 

And  stood  concealed  amid  the  brake 

To  view  the  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

The  maiden  paused  as  if  again 

She  thought  to  catch  the  distant  strain, 

With  head  upraised  and  look  intent, 

And  eye  and  ear  attentive  bent, 

And  locks  flung  back  and  lips  apart, 

Like  monument  of  Grecian  art, 

In  listening  mood  she  seemed  to  stand, 

The  guardian  Naiad  of  the  strand." 
"  A  chieftain's  daughter  seemed  the  maid; 

Her  satin  snood,  her  silken  plaid, 

Her  golden  brooch,  such  birth  betrayed." 
"And  never  brooch  the  folds  combined 

Above  a  heart  more  good  and  kind. 

Her  kindness  and  her  worth  to  spy, 

You  need  but  gaze  on  Ellen's  eye." 
"  Impatient  of  the  silent  horn, 

Now  on  the  gale  her  voice  was  borne  : 
'Father!'  she  cried  ;  the  rocks  around 

Loved  to  prolong  the  gentle  sound. 

Awhile  she  paused,  no  answer  came ; 

'  Malcolm,  was  thine  the  blast  ? '    The  name 

Less  resolutely  uttered  fell, 

The  echoes  could  not  catch  the  swell. 
'A  stranger,  I, 'the  Huntsman  said, 

Advancing  from  the  laurel  shade. 

The  maid,  alarmed,  with  hasty  oar 

Pushed  her  light  shallop  from  the  shore, 


26  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

And  when  a  space  was  gained  between, 

Closer  she  drew  her  bosom's  screen." 

*    *    *     "  Though  fluttered  and  amazed, 

She  paused  and  on  the  stranger  gazed," 
"  On  his  bold  visage  middle  age 

Had  slightly  pressed  its  signet  sage." 
"  His  limbs  were  cast  in  manly  mould, 

For  hardy  sports  or  contests  bold." 
"  Slighting  the  petty  need  he  showed, 

He  told  of  his  benighted  road." 
"  A  while  the  maid  the  stranger  eyed, 

And,  reassured,  at  length  replied, 

That  Highland  halls  were  open  still 

To  wildered  wanderers  of  the  hill." 
"  The  stranger  viewed  the  shore  around  ; 

'Twas  all  so  close  with  copsewood  bound, 

Nor  track  nor  pathway  might  declare 

That  human  foot  frequented  there, 

Until  the  mountain  maiden  showed 

A  clambering,  unsuspected  road, 

That  winded  through  the  tangled  screen 

And  opened  on  a  narrow  green, 

Where  weeping  birch  and  willow  round 

With  their  long  fibres  swept  the  ground. 

Here  for  retreat  in  dangerous  hour 

Some  chief  had  framed  a  rustic  bower." 

We  had  not  time  to  visit  this  bower  and  with  the  hunter  spend  the 
night  where  "  the  stranger's  bed  was  of  mountain  heather  spread,"  but 
we  seemed  to  hear  him  name  his  rank : 

;i  The  Knight  of  Snowdoun,  James  Fitz- James, 
Lord  of  a  barren  heritage," 

and  to  hear  him  say : 

"  This  morning  with  Lord  Moray's  train 
He  chased  a  stalwart  stag  in  vain, 
Outstripped  his  comrades,  missed  the  deer, 
Lost  his  good  steed  and  wandered  here." 

We  imagined  we  saw,  on  the  morrow, 

"  The  parting  lingerer  wave  adieu, 

And  stop  and  turn  to  wave  anew." 
"  While  yet  he  loitered  on  the  spot, 

It  seemed  as  Ellen  marked  him  not, 

But  when  he  turned  him  to  the  glade, 

One  courteous  parting  sign  she  made." 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Ellen's  Isle,  on  Loch  Katrine.    2.  The  Trosachs. 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  2/ 

Eight  lovely  miles  amid  these  beauties  were  passed  as  a  song,  the 
entire  length  of  this  miniature  lake,  and  we  reached  the  enchanted  land. 

"  High  on  the  south  huge  Benvenue 
Down  on  the  lake  in  masses  threw 
Crags,  knolls  and  mounds  confusedly  hurled, 
The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world ; 
A  wildering  forest  feathered  o'er 
His  rained  sides  and  summit  hoar, 
While  on  the  north,  through  middle  air, 
Ben-an  heaved  high  his  forehead  bare." 

We  did  not  enter  the  Trosachs,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
by  a  ladder  composed  of  the  branches  and  roots  of  trees,  nor,  like  James 
Fitz-James,  guided  by  the  rebel  chieftain,  Roderick  Dhu,  but  like  him 
we  went  through  "a  profound  defile,  a  craggy  gorge,  a  dark  crevasse, 
wild,  wooded,  beautiful  and  sublime." 

"  All  in  the  Trosachs  glen  was  still, 
Noontide  was  sleeping  on  the  hill."  , 

And  where  King  James  the  Fifth  of  Scotland  (for  it  was  no  humbler 
character  than  he  who  was  the  hero  of  Scott's  poem)  looked  upon  his 
own  brave  steed,  in  imagination  we  heard  him  say : 

"  Ah,  gallant  grey, 

For  thee,  for  me,  perchance  'twere  well 
We  ne'er  had  seen  the  Trosach's  dell." 

Pause  ye  who  will  with  James  Fitz-James  and  Roderick  Dhu  at  Coilan- 
tangle  ford,  where 

"  Each  at  once  his  falchion  drew, 
Each  on  the  ground  his  scabbard  threw, 
Each  looked  to  sun,  and  stream,  and  plain, 
As  what  they  ne'er  might  see  again, 
Then  foot  and  point  and  eye  opposed, 
In  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed." 

We  left  them  to  finish  the  fight,  and  our  poetic  journey  through  the 
Scottish  lakes  being  ended, 

"  Soon  the  bulwark  of  the  North, 
Grey  Stirling,  with  her  towers  and  town, 
Upon  our  fleet  career  looked  down." 


STIRLING,  EDINBURG  AND  MELROSE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

,TIRLING —  home  of  many  of  the  sovereigns  of  Scotland, 
scene  of  many  of  the  disasters  of  the  most  unfortunate  family 
of  Stuart,  city  which  was  long  capital  of  Scotland,  and  which 
still  contains  buildings  raised  by  four  of  the  Jameses  —  stands 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  Forth,  thirty-six  miles  from 
Edinburg.  It  commands  a  point  of  that  river  which  was  long 
the  main  passage  between  the  Highlands  and  Lowlands,  and  it  is  second 
to  no  place  in  Scotland  except  Edinburg. 

Stirling  is  a  place  of  interest  for  many  reasons,  and  we  immediately 
sought  the  Castle  upon  its  wedge-shaped  hill,  ascending  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  to  an  altitude  of  two  hundred  and  twenty  feet,  and  stooping 
precipitously  to  the  northwest.  Imagine  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the 
panorama  spread  out  before  us.  In  the  distance,  the  Grampians,  the 
Ochil  Hills,  Tinto,  and  Arthur's  Seat  thirty-six  miles  away ;  just  at  its 
base,  the  linked  Forth  winding  itself  in  graceful  curves  which  are  often 
so  deep  that  it  nearly  unites  with  its  own  waters.  Then  count  the  bat- 
tle-fields where  the  fate  of  nations  has  been  decided  —  fourteen,  bearing 
bloody  records.  The  history  of  Scotland's  chief,  Sir  William  Wallace, 
comes  plainly  to  mind.  When  John  Baliol,  great-grandson  of  David  by 
his  eldest  daughter,  and  Robert  Bruce,  grandson  of  the  same  by  his 
second  daughter,  contended  for  the  throne  ;  and  when  Baliol  had  placed 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.'  29 

himself  and  his  country  under  the  power  of  Edward  I.  of  England,  who 
had  sent  a  governor  to  lord  it  over  the  Scots,  the  patriotic  heart  of  Wal- 
lace could  not  submit,  and  he  slew  the  son  of  the  governor,  and  was  an 
outlaw  for  five  years,  living  in  the  forests  and  caves  of  his  native  land. 
Then,  with  an  army,  he  held  the  castle  of  Stirling,  and  fought,  in  1297, 
the  famous  battle  which  still  bears  the  name  of  this  castle,  and  which  a 
colossal  statue  of  Wallace  commemorates.  It  was  here  that  he  gave  his 
characteristic  reply  to  those  demanding  surrender :  "  We  came  to  assert 
our  rights,  and  to  set  Scotland  free."  Would  that  we  could  leave  him 
here  in  the  midst  of  his  glory,  but  history  will  not  allow  it ;  so  we  follow 
him  through  nearly  ten  more  years  of  varied  victory  and  defeat,  and  find 
him  a  prisoner  in  London  Tower,  and  see  him  die,  only  thirty-seven 
years  of  age,  not,  as  the  romance  says,  of  a  broken  heart,  but  dragged  to 
Smithfield,  beheaded,  and  his  body  quartered  and  placed  in  the  four 
extremes  of  the  realm,  as  a  warning  to  those  who  dared  resist  the  claims 
of  England.  But  the  world  will  always  mourn  that  so  brave  a  patriot 
met  so  cruel  a  fate. 

Another  of  the  battle-fields,  and  the  last  we  have  time  to  mention,  is 
Bannockburn.  Three  miles  from  the  height  where  we  now  stand,  the 
guide  points  out  a  flagstaff  rising  from  the  Bore  Stane  where  Bruce 
planted  his  standard,  in  1314,  when  he  addressed  his  army  with  the 

words  : 

"  Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots  wham  Bruce  has  often  led, 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 
Or  to  glorious  victory  !  " 

Some  received  one  and  some  the  other,  for  it  was  then  and  there  that 
the  independence  of  Scotland  was  gained  and  Bruce  was  seated  on  the 
throne  which  his  descendants  held  for  so  many  years.  This  castle  was 
sometimes  called  the  Castle  of  Snowdoun,  hence  James  V.,  whom  we 
have  followed  in  his  romantic  and  almost  fatal  visit  to  the  Lady  of  the 


30  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

Lake,  was  called  the  Knight  of  Snowdoun ;  and  we  visited  the  room 
where 

u  Motionless  and  moanless  drew 
His  parting  breath,  stout  Roderick  Dim," 

who  had  been  wounded  in  the  encounter  with  James  at  Coilantangle 
ford,  and  in  a  sort  of  dream,  in  which  the  closing  incidents  of  Scott's 
immortal  poem  were  enacted  with  life-like  distinctness,  we  took  the  cars 
for  Edinburg. 

With  minds  crowded  with  these  scenes  of  greatest  historic  interest, 
we  reached  the  end  of  our  journey. 

"  Edina  high  in  heaven  wan, 
Towered,  templed,  metropolitan, 
Waited  upon  by  hills, 
River,  and  wide-spread  ocean." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  scarcely  past  the  twilight  hour  in  that 
northern  latitude,  and  we  walked  to  our  hotel  with  eyes  sharpened  by 
Imagination,  and  we  looked  upon  the  old,  old  city  painted  with  the  brush 
of  Fancy.  We  rested  one  day,  and  on  Monday  morning  commenced 
the  examination  of  Edinburgh,  daughter  of  that  fortress  of  rock  which 
has  been  a  stronghold  from  the  days  of  the  Saxon  heptarchy,  now  a  city 
more  than  seven  miles  in  circuit,  containing  two  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants.  From  whatever  standpoint  we  could  take,  Edinburg  Castle 
stood  out  in  bold  relief,  hence  we  immediately  directed  our  steps  toward 
this  mountain  supposed  to  have  been  occupied  by  forts  from  times  before 
the  Christian  era.  The  castle  crowns  the  summit  of  Greenstone  rock, 
445  feet  high  and  700  yards  in  circumference.  The  entrance  is  over  a 
drawbridge,  across  a  deep,  dry  fosse,  through  a  gateway,  up  a  causeway, 
through  an  archway,  etc.,  etc.  ;  in  short,  an  enemy  would  be  obliged  to 
pass  through  nine  gates  (if  gates  were  there,  and  they  could  easily  be 
replaced  if  necessary,)  in  face  of  shot  and  shell,  to  gain  the  highest 
point,  the  King's  Bastion.  We  pause  in  our  ascent  before  the  "  Old 
Royal  Palace,"  the  abode  of  the  kings  and  queens  of  Scotland.  The 


* 


ROM      IHt    -CASTLE. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  31 

I 

room  of  Queen  Mary  is  shown,  where  James  VI.  was  born.  He  was  let 
down  from  the  window  in  a  basket  and  sent  to  Stirling  to  be  christened. 
This  room  is  nine  feet  long,  very  irregular  in  shape,  and  would  be  unin- 
teresting were  it  not  for  the  associations  connected  with  it.  A  gentle- 
manly Highland  officer  conducted  some  of  our  party  into  the  sergeants' 
mess-room  and  showed  us  the  portrait  of  their  beloved  Queen,  lately 
received.  He  also  pointed  out  the  Time  Gun,  which  is  discharged  every 
lawful  day  at  one  o'clock  by  means  of  an  electric  apparatus  attached  to 
the  Nelson  monument  on  Calton  Hill,  a  mile  away. 

We  have  reached  the  summit  of  the  castle,  are  on  the  King's  Bastion, 
and  before  us  is  Mons  Meg,  the  hero  of  army  cannon,  crippled  to  be  sure, 
but  giving  unmistakable  evidence  of  having  been  in  many  battles. 
Forged  in  1476,  used  in  the  seige  of  Dumbarton  Castle  in  1489,  burst 
in  1682,  removed  to  London  Tower  in  1754,  it  was  restored  to  Scotland, 
mainly  through  the  intercession  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  1829.  It  is 
thirteen  feet  long  and  weighs  more  than  five  tons.  It  stands  sentinel 
on  the  highest  point  of  the  castle,  just  in  front  of  St.  Margaret's  Chapel. 
This  chapel  is  the  oldest  building  in  Edinburg  and  the  smallest  and  most 
ancient  chapel  in  Great  Britain.  David  I.,  the  founder  of  this  chapel, 
was  also  the  founder  of  Holyrood  Abbey,  and  it  was  during  his  reign 
that  the  city  was  first  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  burgh,  in  1129. 

We  left  Castle  Hill  to  thread  the  Canongate,  made  famous  by  the 
"  Chronicles"  of  Scott.  It  derives  its  name  from  the  Augustine  canons 
of  Holyrood.  The  Canongate  is  Scottish  history  fossilized.  What 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Edinburg  from  the  Frith  of  Forth  —  Arthur's  Seat,  Salisbury  Crags,  Cal- 
ton Hill,  Castle.  2.  Edinburg  from  Castle  Hill,  Mons  Meg  in  the  foreground ;  Scott's  Monument 
on  Prince's  street  at  the  left ;  Calton  Hill,  with  its  monuments  to  Dugald  Stewart  and  Nelson, 
the  National  Monument  to  the  Scotchmen  who  fell  in  the  battles  of  Napoleon,  and  the  new 
Royal  Observatory.  Holyrood  Palace,  at  the  foot  of  Calton  Hill,  just  back  of  the  bridge.  St. 
Giles'  Church,  on  High  street  (its  square  tower  surmounted  with  an  imperial  crown),  of  which 
John  Knox  was  pastor  at  the  Reformation,  where  Jenny  Geddes  threw  her  stool  at  the  Dean 
of  Edinburg,  and  where  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  was  sworn  to  and  subscribed  in  1643. 
Grayfriars'  Churchyard,  where  many  of  the  Covenanters  are  interred. 


32  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

ghosts  of  kings  and  queens  walk  there!  What  strifes  of  steel-clad 
nobles !  What  wretches  borne  along,  in  the  sight  of  peopled  windows, 
to  the  grim  embrace  of  the  "  maiden  ! "  What  lamentations  over  disas- 
trous battle  days !  James  rode  up  this  street  on  his  way  to  Flodden. 
Jenny  Geddes  threw  her  stool  at  the  priest  in  the  church  yonder.  John  - 
Knox  came  up  here  to  his  house  after  his  interview  with  Mary  at  Holy- 
rood  —  grim  and  stern  and  unmelted  by  the  tears  of  a  queen.  In  later 
days  the  Pretender  rode  down  the  Canongate,  his  eyes  dazzled  by  the 
glitter  of  his  father's  crown.  Down  here  of  an  evening  rode  Dr.  John- 
son and  Boswell,  and  turned  into  the  White  Horse  Close.  David  Hume 
had  his  dwelling  in  this  street,  and  trod  its  pavements,  much  meditating 
the  wars  of  the  Roses  and  the  Parliament.  One  day  a  burly  ploughman 
from  Ayrshire,  with  swarthy  features  and  wonderful  black  eyes,  came 
down  here  and  turned  into  yonder  churchyard  to  stand,  with  cloudy  lids 
and  forehead  reverently  bared,  beside  the  grave  of  poor  Ferguson. 
Down  the  street,  too,  often  limped  a  little  boy,  Walter  Scott  by  name, 
destined  in  after  years  to  write  its  "  Chronicles."  Later  still  came  those 
philanthropists  and  Christians,  Chalmers  and  Guthrie,  gathering  abun- 
dant material  for  their  "  ragged  schools."  And  last  of  all  came  the 
United  States  Girls  from  across  the  Atlantic,  on  their  way  to  Holyrood, 
—  "  Monaslerium  Sancta  Crucis  de  Crag?  Monastery  of  the  Holy  Rood 
(or  Cross)  of  the  Craig. 

The  cause  of  the  erection  of  the  abbey  was  this  :  The  king  had  gone 
hunting  on  the  day  on  which  was  commemorated  the  Exaltation  of  the 
Cross.  He  followed  a  stag,  which  stood  at  bay,  and  would  have  injured 
him,  but  a  piece  of  the  true  cross  slipped  into  his  hands.  He  was 
warned  by  a  vision  "  to  big  an  abbey  of  Channones  Regular  in  the  same 
place  quhare  he  gat  the  crace."  Hence  the  Abbey  of  Holyrood  was 
founded  by  David  I.  in  1128.  Now  it  is  roofless  and  falling  to  ruin,  and 
the  remorseless  rain  falls  on  the  graves  of  David  II.,  James  II.,  James  V. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  33 

and  Lord  Darnley,  the  husband  of  Queen  Mary.  A  palace  rose  long 
ago  by  the  side  of  the  abbey  and  in  connection  with  it,  and  the  principal 
events  in  its  history  are  in  relation  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  On  the 
second  floor  were  her  apartments,  and  there  her  bed  still  stands,  sur- 
rounded by  hangings  of  crimson  damask,  with  green  silk  fringes  and 
tassels,  and  tapestry  illustrating  the  fall  of  Phaeton.  .  It  looks  as  though 
it  would  fall  to  pieces  if  the  hand  but  touched  it,  so  plainly  is  age  written 
thereon.  Just  outside  the  door  to  descend  by  a  back  passage  is  the  blood 
of  Rizzio,  which  is  as  ineffaceable  from  the  floor  as  is  the  story  of  his 
tragical  death  from  the  minds  of  those  who  learned  it  in  childhood. 

We  have  but  just  begun  to  tell  of  the  castle,  the  palace,  and  of  this 
strange  city,  but  it  has  been  so  beautifully  described  by  poets,  philoso- 
phers, and  divines,  that  we  only  dare  to  say  we  have  walked  these  old 
streets,  looked  upon  these  old  walls,  visited  the  home  of  John  Knox,  read 
the  inscriptions  upon  the  walls  of  his  house,  entered  the  church  where 
his  voice  sounded  so  fearlessly,  and  stood  by  the  stone  in  the  pavement 
which,  by  the  initials  "  J.  K.,"  marks  his  resting-place.  We  have  been 
in  the  churchyard  where  the  martyrs  repose,  and  have  seen  the  "  Maiden  " 
(too  cruel  for  such  a  name)  which  severed  their  heads.  We  have  counted 
the  stories  of  the  old  houses  till  we  came  within  one  of  a  dozen,  and  we 
have  ascended  the  steps  between  the  old  and  the  new  town  till  our  limbs 
refused  to  move.  We  have  walked  over  Calton  Hill,  conspicuous  for  its 
monuments,  and  spent  three  hours  climbing  that  we  might  sit  upon 
Arthur's  Seat  and  there  date  letters  to  send  to  our  friends  in  America 
(we  feared  that  the  wind  would  serve  us  worse  than  it  did  upon  the 
ocean  if  we  attempted  to  do  more  than  to  date  our  letters,  so  we  took  a 
lower  seat  to  write  them) ;  and  we  rejoice  to  have  stood  by  the  monu- 
ment reared  by  Scotland  to  the  son  who  has  brought  such  honor  to  his 
country,  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

We  bade  good-bye  to  Edinburg  with  sad  hearts.     We  would  not  be- 
5 


34  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

lieve  that  we  should  come  no  more  into  her  streets,  hear  the  pleasant 
greeting  of  old  and  young,  and  look  upon  the  honest  faces  of  those 
Highland  Scotch  people.  No  !  let  us  rather  believe  that  we  shall  some 
time  live  over  again  those  pleasant  days,  even  though  it  be  an  illusion. 
Nine  days  were  spent  in  this  city,  so  often  compared  to  ancient  Athens 
crowned  with  her  Acropolis,  and  one  day  in  the  suburbs  at  Hawthornden, 
eleven  miles  away  —  classic  Hawthornden,  where  the  poet  Drummond 
resided  and  received  his  friend  Ben  Jonson  (who  walked  from  London  to 
visit  him)  under  the  noble  sycamore  tree  which  still  spreads  its  branches 
to  shelter  the  weary  traveler  —  through  the  picturesque  glen  on  the  bank 
of  the  North  Esk  river,  which  can  scarcely  be  surpassed  in  Scotland,  a 
mile  in  length  and  containing  about  twenty  species  of  wild  flowers,  and 
also  some  curious  caves,  one  of  which  was  occupied  by  Bruce  for  four 
years ;  then  we  left  for  Melrose,  not  quite  forty  miles  from  Edinburg. 
We  waited  "  to  view  fair  Melrose  aright,  and  visit  it  by  the  pale  moon- 
light," so  the  afternoon  hours  were  spent  in  a  walk  to  Abbotsford,  three 
miles  on  the  banks  of  the  Tweed.  Abbotsford,  the  residence  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  "  a  romance  in  stone  and  lime,"  embodies  portions  of  Mel- 
rose Abbey,  Holyrood  Palace,  Linlithgow  Palace,  and  Edinburgh  old 
Tolbooth,  so  arranged  as  to  make  it  a  grand  museum.  "  It  is  beautiful 
in  itself,  beautiful  in  its  surroundings,  and  beautiful  in  the  memory  which 
it  perpetuates."  Within  was  the  library  with  its  twenty  thousand  vol- 
umes ;  the  study,  where  the  author  of  "  Waverley  "  prepared  those  works 
which  took  the  world  by  storm,  and  which  has  been  left  very  nearly  as  he 
occupied  it ;  the  armory,  which  has  the  ring  and  clang  of  steel  in  the 
air ;  and  the  drawing-room,  in  which  Sir  Walter  died,  with  its  old  furni- 
ture of  ebony,  its  beautiful  carvings  and  stained-glass  windows.  A  few 
of  the  very  interesting  objects  in  this  place  were  :  Queen  Mary's  seal 
and  snuff-box,  Rob  Roy's  purse,  Bruce's  candlestick,  key  of  the  old  Tol- 
booth, and  the  bust  of  Scott  after  death.  We  were  obliged  to  leave  his 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  35 

great-granddaughter,  twenty  years  of  age,  in  peaceful  possession  of  these 
collections  of  art  and  antiquity,  and  walk  again  over  the  ground  his  feet 
had  trod  so  many  times,  with  the  bracing  air  from  Scotland's  hills  and 
the  bright  sun  from  Scotland's  skies  coming  down  upon  us,  back  to  Mel- 
rose.  Having  returned  to  the  neighborhood  of  that  grand  old  ruin, 
which  the  poet  tells  us  to  view  by  pale  moonlight,  we  are  so  anxious  to 
get  a  glimpse  within  the  mural  enclosure  that  we  set  forth  before  the 
sun  has  left  the  sky,  thinking  to  surround  the  walls  of  the  noble  abbey 
and  steal  a  glance  at  the  hidden  relic.  We  recall  to  mind  that  it  was  the 
work  of  the  same  David  who  reared  Holyrood  and  gave  to  Edinburg  her 
fortress  on  Castle  Hill  —  three  splendid  creations  destined  to  stand  the 
test  of  time  and  to  be  a  wonder  to  coming  generations  centuries  after 
the  one  who  designed  the  whole  had  passed  away.  Melrose  was  a  suit- 
able monument  to  Robert  Bruce,  who  gave  to  Scotland  the  independence 
since  lost,  and  a  fit  mausoleum,  too,  for  his  patriotic  heart,  which  had 
been  prepared  by  his  countrymen  to  be  taken  to  the  Holy  Land,  while 
his  body  was  laid  to  rest  in  a  neighboring  abbey.  With  hearts  burning 
with  enthusiastic  patriotism,  the  earth  was  hardly  the  place  for  our  feet, 
and  we  had  climbed  as  high  as  was  possible  under  the  circumstances. 
The  three  had  scaled  a  lofty  stone  wall,  not  questioning  whether  it  was 
laid  by  Picts  or  Scots,  or  whether  by  the  Romans  seeking  a  new  world 
to  conquer.  All  in  file  we  stood,  like  soldiers  surveying  a  battle-field 
after  the  fight  is  finished.  Fearing  to  take  too  much  from  the  pleasure 
of  the  evening,  one  kind  sister  descended  from  her  high  position  and 
extended  a  hand  to  those  still  above.  The  teacher  first  accepted  the 
proffered  hand,  and  with  one  bold  leap  confidently  expected  to  land  on 
terra  firma.  But  problems  in  algebra  could  be  more  readily  solved, 
French  comedies  more  politely  played,  German  verbs  more  musically 
inflected,  or  cantos  in  Virgil  more  gracefully  rendered  ;  for  all  of  a  sudden 
there  was  a  whirl  of  the  brain,  a  holding  back  by  strong  power,  an 


36  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS. 

entire  suspension  of  movement,  then  a  sudden  giving  away,  a  crash  and 
a  fall,  followed  by  a  cry  that  the  little  one  had  carelessly  jumped  upon 
her  friend.  Opening  her  eyes  to  the  condition  of  things,  she  saw  with 
wonder  the  American  Coon  (an  epithet  applied  to  the  smallest  one  of  our 
party  by  a  facetious  friend,  in  allusion  to  her  name)  perched  above  the 
fallen  of  the  party,  looking  sympathizingly  from  her  elevation,  while 
coldly  extended  before  her  eyes  lay  the  barefaced  perpetrator  of  the  deed, 
holding  her  fastened  to  the  ground.  A  huge  stone  had  caught  her  skirts 
and  held  her  suspended  for  a  time  in  mid-air,  then  yielding  the  point,  had 
followed  her  and  still  held  her  captive  as  with  heavy  chains.  After  a 
careful  examination  to  see  whether  a  fracture  or  a  sprain  or  only  a  bruise 
was  the  result  of  the  accident  above  mentioned,  the  three  concluded  to 
return  to  the  hotel  as  speedily  as  possible ;  so,  with  an  arm  on  the 
shoulder  of  each  of  her  companions,  she  hopped  on  one  foot,  and  the 
landlady  was  summoned,  the  shoe  removed,  the  foot  bathed,  and  our 
view  of  Melrose  Abbey  was  all "  moonshine."  The  state  of  affairs  next 
morning  was  not  as  bad  as  had  been  feared,  and  taking  a  broomless 
handle  which  offered  itself  for  a  crutch,  we  limped  to  the  depot  and  left 
Melrose. 

For  reasons  we  need  not  specify,  we  did  not  walk  around  the  English 
lakes  and  visit  the  homes  of  the  poets  so  celebrated,  but  we  hastened  to 
London,  where  we  knew  the  halt  and  the  maimed  and  the  lame  are  wont 
to  assemble.  Once  on  the  way,  when  it  was  necessary  to  change  cars, 
a  kind-hearted  Scotchman  saw  our  condition  and  invited  the  crippled 
one  to  sit  on  his  truck  and  be  wheeled  with  our  baggage  through  the 
long  depot  —  an  offer  too  good  to  be  rejected. 


LONDON. 


CHAPTER  V.     v 

iE  could  almost  tell  when  we  crossed  into  England,  and 
bonnie  Scotland  being  left,  we  held  our  breaths  in  sus- 
pense as  we  approached  the  largest  city  in  the  world. 
We  looked  upon  the  green  fields  separated  by  hedges  of 
hawthorn,  and  suddenly  we  were  in  the  midst  of  darkness, 
which  was  dissipated  only  by  a  feeble  lamp  burning  over  our 
heads,  lighted  we  knew  not  when  or  how.  After  a  ride  of  several  miles 
in  this  way,  the  cars  stopped  in  the  midst  of  daylight,  and  they  said  we 
were  in  London.  London  !  Is  it  possible  ?  Where  is  the  rush,  and  the 
din,  and  the  turmoil  ?  where  are  the  beggars,  and  paupers,  and  disgust- 
ing specimens  of  mankind  ?  where  is  the  filth,  and  squalor,  and  abject 
poverty  ?  Perhaps  we  shall  see  them  when  we  become  better  acquainted. 
The  British  metropolis  in  its  largest  sense  is  nearly  one  hundred  miles 
in  circumference.  It  comprises  688f  square  miles,  and  the  number 
of  dwellings  is  estimated  at  half  a  million.  If  placed  in  a  straight  line 
they  would  extend  from  the  north  end  of  Great  Britain  to  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean.  A  total  length  of  its  streets  is  2,500  miles  —  one- 
third  of  the  earth's  diameter ;  if  stretched  in  one  long  line  they  would 
reach  from  Liverpool  to  New  York.  The  number  of  streets,  lanes  and 
parks  in  the  whole  Metropolitan  Police  District  is  10,500  miles.  The 
population  is  over  three  and  a  half  millions.  All  the  vehicles  travel  in 


^g  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

the  course  of  a  year  about  as  far  as  the  earth  is  from  the  sun.  "  London 
is  no  longer  a  city,  it  is  a  province  covered  with  houses."  It  was  in  this 
city  that  we  were  set  out  of  the  cars  to  find  a  home,  and  we  easily  found 
one,  for  everywhere  we  saw  posted,  "  Rooms  to  let,"  and  in  a  few  hours 
we  had  taken  one,  and  were  ready  to  see  London.  Our  home  in  this 
vast  city  was  not  many  miles  at  most  from  its  centre.  To  the  curious 
we  would  say  that  it  was  on  Devonshire  street,  north  of  the  Thames, 
and  west  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  which  is  about  the  centre  of  London. 
The  Thames  goes  through  London  from  west  to  east  very  much  as  a 
huge  serpent  makes  its  way  through  tall  grass,  writhing  and  coiling  and 
running  almost  out  of  sight  until  you  are  right  upon  it.  One  continuous 
great  thoroughfare  runs  also  from  west  to  east  in  a  more  nearly  direct 
course  than  the  Thames,  but  it  takes  a  variety  of  names  in  its  different 
parts,  beginning  at  the  west  —  Uxbridge  road,  extending  along  the  side 
of  Kensington  Gardens  and  Hyde  Park,  which  lie  side  by  side ;  Oxford 
street,  New  Oxford  street,  High  Holborn  (the  one  which  we  were  near- 
est), Holborn  Hill,  Newgate,  Cheapside  (nearest  to  St.  Paul's),  Poultry 
(nearest  the  Thames),  Cornhill,  Leadenhall,  Whitechapel,  Whitechapel 
road,  Bow  road,  and  Stratford  road.  Our  first  attempt  at  sight-seeing 
was  in  a  stroll  through  the  three  parks,  St.  James,  Green  and  Hyde, 
which  extend  each  an  angle  into  the  other  so  as  to  form  one  continuous 
park,  terminated  by  Kensington  Gardens,  at  the  extreme  western  part 
of  the  city,  which  we  have  mentioned.  These  parks,  as  might  be 
expected,  surround  the  homes  of  royalty.  First  of  all,  in  Kensington 
Gardens,  two  and  a  half  miles  in  circumference,  is  Kensington  Palace, 
the  birthplace  of  Queen  Victoria  in  1809.  This  is  still  a  royal  palace, 
although  not  inhabited  by  royalty.  Hyde  Park  contains  390  acres.  At 
the  point  where  Hyde  Park  and  Green  Park  overlap  each  other,  at  the 
entrance  from  Piccadilly,  stands  a  colossal  bronze  statue  of  Achilles,  cast 
from  cannon  taken  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  weighing  thirty  tons, 


ACROSS   f HE   ATLANTIC.  $§ 

u  erected  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  his  companions  in  arms  by 
their  countrymen."  Green  Park  contains  sixty  acres,  so  named  probably 
for  its  undulating  grassy  surface.  Near  where  Green  Park  becomes  St. 
James  is  Buckingham  Palace,  which  is  too  small  for  the  family  of  the 
present  sovereign,  but  is  nevertheless  occasionally  occupied  by  her 
Majesty.  Just  north  of  St.  James  Park,  and  lying  between  the  Mall 
and  Pall  Mall  (so  named  from  the  old  game,  Faille  Maille,  a  forerunner 
of  croquet,)  are  two  more  palaces  —  St.  James,  built  by  Henry  VIII., 
and  Marlborough  House,  where  live  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales, 
who  may  change  their  residence  some  day  for  one  more  regal.  St.  James 
Park  contains  ninety-six  acres  and  is  considered  one  of  the  greatest 
ornaments  to  the  metropolis. 

There  is  one  place  in  London  in  which  children  are  much  interested, 
and  we  sought  the  spot  where  the  American  Coon  informed  us  the 
Laughing  Jackass  could  be  found,  according  to  her  little  reader.  We 
had  not  many  miles  to  go,  in  a  northwesterly  direction,  before  we  found 
Regent's  Park,  a  nearly  circular  enclosure  of  about  470  acres,  in  the 
northern  part  of  which  are  the  famous  Zoological  Gardens,  established 
during  the  present  century.  We  sought  in  vain  for  the  jackass,  but 
found  almost  every  other  kind  of  animal  under  the  sun.  The  Sloth  Bear 
was  a  curious  specimen  of  the  Bruin  family,  that  acted  somewhat  like  a 
Sloth,  crawling  slowly  off  after  the  crumbs  thrown  to  him,  and  back 
again  as  slowly,  then,  putting  all  four  of  his  paws  through  the  bars  of  his 
cage,  he  would  seat  himself  on  his  haunches  and  wait  patiently  for  some- 
thing else.  The  kangaroos  were  numerous,  and  -one  was  specially 
interesting  with  her  big  baby  hopping  in  and  out  from  her  pouch,  which 
was  not  large  enough  to  hold  the  whole  of  it,  but  allowed  its  limbs  to 
touch  the  ground  in  her  frequent  turnings  after  food.  We  sat  down  just 
in  front  of  the  cage  where  the  king  of  the  forest  was  lazily  shutting  his 
sleepy  eyes  ;  but  what  was  our  surprise  when  he  suddenly  opened  his 


40  tJNITEt)  STATES   GlkLS 

monstrous  jaws  and  gave  a  roar  that  was  truly  the  roar  of  the  lion,  and 
we  as  suddenly  withdrew  from  his  presence.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
imagine  any  form  under  the  sun  that  was  not  in  Regent's  Park  that  day, 
and  although  we  walked  back  in  the  midst  of  the  rain,  we  were  amply 
paid  for  every  step  we  had  taken. 

We  must  in  truth  say  that  the  parks  of  the  city  of  London  do  not 
compare  very  favorably  with  the  parks  of  our  own  country  —  with  La- 
fayette Park  in  St.  Louis,  Lincoln  Park  in  Chicago,  Fairmount  Park  in 
Philadelphia,  and  Central  Park  in  New  York.  Although  parts  of  them 
are  highly  ornamented,  yet  they  are  not  one  continued  scene  of  beauty 
like  the  ones  mentioned.  As  we  walked  slowly  along  we  were  passed  by 
many  ladies  on  horseback,  attended  by  their  servants  at  a  respectful 
distance.  Soon  the  question  as  to  their  destination  was  solved.  We 
approached  a  scene  of  gaiety  and  excitement  —  Rotten  Row  ;  a  street 
you  might  call  it,  in  the  midst  of  the  park,  where  assemble  daily  at  cer- 
tain hours  the  equestrians  of  the  city.  Such  a  display  of  fashion  and 
rank  and  style  one  seldom  sees.  The  horses  here,  and  everywhere  in 
the  country,  are  noble  specimens  and  pleasant  to  look  upon,  and  the 
little  boys  of  ten  or  twelve  years,  and  the  ladies  of  all  ages,  (both  classes 
of  persons  in  high  hats,)  made  the  scene  a  novel  one. 

We  were  sufficiently  fortunate  on  our  approach  to  Buckingham  Palace 
to  obtain  a  view  of  the  Shah  of  Persia,  with  his  suite,  and  the  royal 
family,  on  their  way  to  a  garden  party  with  the  Princess  of  Wales.  We 
could  not  feel  quite  the  enthusiasm  manifested  by  many  of  the  crowd, 
because  we  acknowledge  no  king  or  queen,  but  are  our  own  princes  and 
rulers. 

In  returning  to  our  London  home  from  a  visit  to  the  parks  first  men- 
tioned, we  could  pass  through  Trafalgar  Square,  whose  tallest  statue  is 
that  of  Nelson,  high  above  "  Landseer's  four  noble  lions  couchant,"  and 
the  one  which  has  the  most  curious  history  is  that  of  Charles  the  First. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  4! 

It  was  made  during  the  reign  of  the  latter  king,  but  when  civil  war 
broke  out  it  was  sold  to  a  brasier,  who  was  ordered  to  destroy  it.  He, 
however,  buried  it,  and  it  remained  under  ground  till  after  the  Restora- 
tion, when  it  was  erected,  in  1674.  There  is  an  open  space  near  Tra- 
falgar Square  of  which  we  often  read,  and  which  is  called  Charing  Cross, 
from  the  old  village  of  Charing,  where  Edward  the  First  erected  a  cross 
to  the  memory  of  his  queen,  Eleanor.  Wherever  her  bier  rested  he 
erected  a  cross. 

"  A  royal  game  of  Fox  and  Geese 

To  play  for  such  a  loss ; 
Wherever  she  put  down  her  orts, 
There  he— set  up  a  cross." 

Thence  we  proceeded  through  the  Strand,  so  called  because  it  lies 
along  the  bank  of  the  river  —  in  the  seventeenth  century  it  was  a  kind 
of  country  road  connecting  the  city  with  Westminster  ;  under  the  famous 
Temple  Bar,  which  is  a  wide  central  archway  with  a  smaller  one  on  each 
side  for  foot-passengers,  the  whole  dividing  the  Strand  from  Fleet  street. 
There  are  doors  in  the  main  avenue,  which  used  to  be  closed,  but  are 
never  so  now  except  in  case  of  some  state  ceremonial,  when  the  royal 
family  knock  for  admission  and  the  Lord  Mayor  opens  unto  them.  This 
is  the  place  where  the  heads  of  criminals  were  exposed  after  having  been 
boiled  in  pitch  to  preserve  them.  The  last  ones,  those  of  two  Jacobites, 
were  well  preserved,  for  they  remained  from  1745  till  1772,  when  they 
were  blown  down  in  a  gale  of  wind.  A  little  way  on  Fleet  street,  which 
has  been  called  the  "  March  of  Intellect,"  it  is  so  full  of  newspaper  and 
printing  offices,  then  we  turned  off  at  Chancery  lane,  through  Red  Lion, 
and  so  to  Devonshire  street,  ready  to  rest  after  the  first  day  in  London. 

On  Tuesday,  the  first  day  of  July,  we  visited  the  Tower  of  London, 
the  chief  fortress  of  the  monarchs  of  Great  Britain  and  the  depository 
of  the  national  arms  and  accoutrements.  It  does  not,  like  its  sister 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Temple  Bar.    2.  Houses  of  Parliament.  3.  Westminster  Abbey.  4.  Wes- 
ley.   5.  Spurgeon. 

6 


42  tJNJTEi)  STATES  GIRLS' 

castles,  occupy  an  elevated  position  overlooking  the  surrounding  country, 
but  threading  busy  streets  we  look  with  interest  upon  this  structure, 
which  has  been  palace,  fortress  and  dungeon,  in  several  cases,  to  the 
same  individual.  We  have  the  authority  of  Shakspeare  for  saying  that 
the  Tower  was  begun  by  the  Roman  conqueror,  Caesar,  but  most  writers 
date  its  origin  to  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror,  1078.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  double  line  of  walls  and  bulwarks,  the  outer  one  inclosing 
thirteen  acres.  The  moat  is  supplied  with  water  from  the  Thames,  but 
it  has  been  kept  drained  since  1 846.  We  enter  the  walls,  fortified  by  six 
towers,  following  one  of  the  wardens  dressed  in  the  livery  established  by 
Henry  VIII.  These  wardens  are  often  called  "  beef-eaters,"  a  corruption 
of  beaufetiers,  battle-ax  guards,  first  raised  by  Henry  VII.  in  1485. 
Within  the  inner  walls,  fortified  by  twelve  towers,  is  the  White  Tower,  a 
quadrangular  structure,  erected  for  William  the  Conqueror  ;  it  has  three 
stories  above  ground,  and,  the  guard  told  us,  three  stories  below.  Its 
walls  are  fifteen  feet  thick.  One  division  of  the  first  floor  is  occupied 
by  "  Queen  Elizabeth's  Armory,"  in  which  the  virgin  queen  may  be  seen 
mounted  on  a  carved  horse,  attended  by  her  pages  and  officers  of  the 
household  in  armor.  Instruments  of  torture  are  shown  here,  and  we  saw 
the  thumb-screw  applied,  very  gently,  however,  to  one  of  our  friends. 
The  beheading  block  and  ax  were  there,  used  for  the  last  time  after  the 
rebellion  in  Scotland.  The  Horse  Armory  is  a  modern  building,  in 
which  are  arranged  equestrian  statues  of  the  kings  in  ancient  armor  (or 
"  tin  pants,"  our  little  one  said,)  from  the  time  of  Henry  VI.,  1422,  to 
that  of  James  II.,  1685. 

We  must  not  stop  to  tell  of  the  Bloody  Tower,  where  the  two  sons 
of  Edward  IV.  were  smothered,  or  the  Bell  Tower,  where  it  is  said  Eliz- 
abeth tasted  the  pleasures  of  confinement  for  a  time  ;  the  Devereux 
Tower,  which  derived  its  name  from  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex, 
the  favorite  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  or  the  remaining  nine  towers,  all 
of  which  have  an  interesting  history. 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  43 

It  would  be  pleasant  to  notice  the  records  of  the  Tower  as  a  palace, 
were  they  not  so  soon  changed  to  those  of  a  prison  in  many  instances. 
Henry  VIII.  gave  to  all  his  wives  receptions  of  great  magnificence 
within  these  walls,  but  what  followed  ?  All  was  bright  to  Queen  Anne 
Boleyn  in  1533,  but  in  1536  she  inhabited  the  same  apartments,  and  soon 
was  on  her  way  to  the  scaffold  on  Tower  Green !  —  the  spot  pointed  out 
to  us  where  many  had  surrendered  their  lives.  History  tells  of  the 
Tower  as  a  prison. 

During  the  eight  centuries  the  walls  of  the  Tower  have  frowned  upon 
the  Thames,  it  has  not  been  attacked  by  a  foreign  enemy,  but  during  the 
internal  wars  which  have  so  often  disturbed  the  country,  it  has  been  an 
object  of  great  importance  for  each  party  to  gain  possession  of  this  im- 
pregnable fortress,  and  therefore  it  has  many  times  felt  the  shock  of  war. 

The  New  Palace  of  Westminster,  or,  in  other  words,  the  Houses 
of  Parliament,  built  in  consequence  of  the  burning  of  the  old  Houses 
of  Parliament  in  1834,  lies  just  across  the  street  from  Westminster  Ab- 
bey, extending  along  the  banks  of  the  Thames  for  nine  hundred  feet.  A 
royal  palace  has  occupied  the  same  site  since  the  time  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  who  delayed  his  death,  it  is  said,  as  long  as  possible  in  order 
to  dedicate  his  abbey.  This  is  probably  the  finest  Gothic  structure  in 
the  world  ;  it  covers  nearly  eight  acres  and  contains  two  miles  of  passages 

and  corridors  and  five  hundred  rooms.     It  is  surmounted  by  numberless 

• 
towers,  but  the  most  important  ones  are  the  Victoria  Tower,  the  largest 

and  highest  square  tower  in  the  world  (it  bears  a  flagstaff  four  hundred 
feet  above  the  ground,  which  floats  a  royal  standard  twelve  yards  long 
and  nine  yards  wide,  when  the  sovereign  is  within  the  walls),  the  Clock 
Tower,  supporting  a  clock  with  the  largest  dial  in  the  world,  and  the 
Central  Tower,  which  also  has  something  the  largest  in  the  world,  but 
we  cannot  describe  it.  Of  the  five  hundred  rooms  we  can  notice  but  few. 
The  House  of  Lords  is  ninety  feet  long,  forty-five  wide,  and  forty-five 


44  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

high,  and  in  one  part  of  it  is  the  throne  where  stands  Her  Majesty's  state 
chair,  approached  by  three  steps ;  on  one  side  of  this  stands  one  for  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  on  the  other  one  for  the  late  Prince  Consort,  each 
reached  by  two  steps.  The  monograms  in  the  compartments  of  the 
throne,  "  V.  R.,"  "  P.  A ,"  and  "  P.  W.,"  show  by  whom  the  chairs  were 
designed  to  be  occupied  ;  and  the  various  carvings  of  ro'ses  andfaurs  de 
Us,  lions  and  unicorns,  shields  and  escutcheons,  tell  the  history  of  Eng- 
land for  the  last  century  at  least.  The  state  chair  is  somewhat  similar  to 
the  coronation  chair  at  Westminster  Abbey.  The  House  of  Commons, 
too,  is  no  common  place  after  all ;  but,  interesting  as  it  is,  we  must  leave 
the  New  Palace  of  Westminster. 
Then  Westminster  Abbey, 

"  Where  royal  heads  receive  the  sacred  gold ; 
It  gives  them  crowns,  and  does  their  ashes  keep ; 
There  made  like  gods,  like  mortals  there  they  sleep." 

We  look  back  into  the  ages  for  the  history  of  this  far-famed  cathedral, 
and  find  that  as  early  as  616  a  Benedictine  monastery  and  church  were 
founded  by  Sebert,  King  of  Essex,  on  a  peninsula  formed  by  the  Thames 
and  a  small  tributary  stream,  and  called  Thorney  Island,  because  over- 
grown with  reeds  and  thorns.  It  was  called  the  West  Minster  in  refer- 
ence to  its  situation  with  regard  to  St.  Paul's.  This  church  was  destroyed 
by  the  Danes,  and  Thorney  Island  would  have  passed  out  of  history  had 
it  not  been  for  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
future  celebrated  abbey  in  1065,  and  caused  it  to  be  dedicated  eight  days 
before  his  death.  William  the  Conqueror  was  crowned  here  with  great 
pomp  in  1065.  Little,  however,  of  the  work  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
exists  in  the  present  building  except  the  foundations,  but  his  name  has 
been  perpetuated  by  one  of  his  successors  on  the  English  throne,  Henry 
III.,  who  erected  a  chapel  to  his  memory,  and  the  bones  of  the  canonized 
Confessor  now  rest  by  the  side  of  Henry  III.  in  the  chapel  which  bears 
his  name.  The  last  great  addition  to  this  beautiful  structure  was  the 


BOUSES   OF  PARLIAMENT. 


Wit  pteacb  not 
outsetUesbutdVist 
3fesus 


THEY   THAT    BE  WISE 
*HAU  SHINE  AS  THE  BRICHTNWS 

or  THE  FIRMAMENT; 

i    AND  THEY  THAT  TURN  MANY 
TO  RIGHTEOUSNESS   AS 
STABS  FOR  EVER 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  45 

chapel  of  Henry  VII.,  in  1503.     The  two  towers  at  the  western  entrance 
have  since  been  added  under  the  direction  of  Christopher  Wren. 

The  general  plan  of  the  building  is  that  of  a  Latin  cross  ;  length,  416 
feet;  breadth  at  the  transept,  203  feet;  at  the  nave,  102  feet;  height 
of  the  west  towers,  225  feet.  We  can  hardly  tell  about  the  Choir,  the 
Nave,  the  North  and  South  Transepts,  the  Chapter  House  and  Cloisters. 
The  interior  of  the  Abbey  is  grand  "  with  all  its  mystical  effects  of  light 
and  shade,  its  lofty  arches,  its  soaring  roofs,  its  glorious  windows,  and  its 
elaborate  sculpture  "  The  building  is  divided  into  two  tiers  of  arches 
of  unequal  height ;  above  these  are  pointed  windows  with  different  kinds 
of  arches,  then  a  gallery  with  carved  moldings,  and  still  above,  lofty 
windows.  Everywhere,  on  the  floor  and  on  the  walls,  are  monuments  to 
the  celebrated  dead  whose  dust  reposes  here.  The  mosaic  pavements  in 
different  parts,  and  the  stained-glass  windows  representing  scriptural 
subjects,  add  to  the  beauty  and  interest  of  the  whole.  It  is  well  worth 
the  English  sixpence  to  visit  the  nine  chapels  of  different  dates  and 
listen  to  the  accounts  of  their  builders  and  occupants,  only  two  of  which 
chapels  we  will  notice.  First,  Edward  the  Confessor's,  previously  men- 
tioned, containing  the  tomb  of  this  founder  of  the  Abbey,  and  also  the 
coronation  chairs,  one  of  which' covers  the  famous  stone  of  Scone  on 
which  the  Scottish  kings  were  crowned  until  1297,  when  it  was  brought 
to  England  by  Edward  I.  But  grandest  of  all  is  the  chapel  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  in  the  centre  of  which  are  the  recumbent  effigies  of  Henry 
and  his  queen,  with  hands  uplifted  to  heaven,  and  surrounded  by  many 
devices  relating  to  the  union  of  the  red  and  the  white  roses.  Here  too  lie 
Mary  and  Elizabeth,  nearer  than  they  came  to  each  other  in  their  lives, 
and  Cromwell  once  had  a  resting-place  here,  but  the  royalists  took  up 
his  body  and  buried  it,  decapitated,  under  Tyburn  gallows.  Leaving  the 
remainder  of  the  ninety  monuments  and  shrines  to  royalty,  this  "acre 
sown  with  royal  seed,"  we  turn  to  the  Poet's  Corner,  where,  Washington 


46  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

Irving  says,  "  a  kinder  feeling  takes  the  place  of  that  cold  curiosity  with 
which  we  gaze  on  the  splendid  monuments  of  the  great  and  the  heroic." 
Oliver  Goldsmith  gave  it  the  name,  and  the  first  monument  erected  there 
was  to  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  "  morning  star  of  English  poetry."  On  one 
of  the  tablets  we  read,  "  O  rare  Ben  Jonson,"  and  learn  that  he  was 
buried  beneath  in  an  upright  position.  Many  are  far  removed  from  this 
Corner,  where  their  names  are  read  by  the  curious,  as  is  true  of  Butler, 
Gray,  Milton  and  Shakspeare.  The  monument  to  Goldsmith  contains 
the  line,  "  He  touched  no  kind  of  writing  which  he  did  not  adorn."  John 
Gay  wrote  his  own  epitaph  : 

"  Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it ; 
I  thought  it  once  but  now  I  know  it." 

The  names  of  sixty-six  —  not  all  poets,  however  —  are  indelibly  written 
upon  these  walls,  as  their  works  have  impressed  themselves  upon  the 
world. 

Service  within  its  walls  gave  a  new  train  of  thought  —  a  church  and 
a  sepulchre  combined  ;  fame  and  a  monument  afforded  by  the  same 
tablet ;  the  coronation  chair,  giving  the  highest  power  to  a  human 
being,  and  the  bed  of  death  whence  all  power  departs,  in  close  prox- 
imity. We  visited  the  chapels,  stood  before  the  different  carvings  upon 
the  walls,  admired  the  stained-glass  windows,  which  alone  excel  those 
of  Glasgow  Cathedral,  previously  described,  and  we  felt  that  the  day  was 
well  spent. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July. 
While  we  three  were  still  enjoying  our  beds  in  our  new  English  home, 
there  was  a  sudden  burst,  as  of  fire-crackers,  near  our  walls.  Two 
of  our  party  hastily  lifted  their  heads,  with  patriotism  beaming  upon  the 
face  and  the  exclamation  bursting  from  their  lips,  "It  is  the  Fourth 
of  July ! "  But  they  as  suddenly  disappeared  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
Teacher  —  "  Fourth  of  July  in  England ! " 


ACROSS  tHE  ATtAfrtid  4? 

In  this  city  of  a  thousand  churches,  where  should  we  attend  divine 
service  ?  At  the  Tabernacle,  of  course,  and  hear  Mr.  Spurgeon ;  and 
the  recollection  of  the  day,  and  the  people,  and  the  church,  and  the 
pastor,  will  remain  long  with  us.  Unostentatious  but  heartfelt  were  all 
the  services,  and  six  thousand  people  went  to  their  homes  happier, 
judging  by  personal  experience.  His  text,  "As  is  the  apple  tree  among 
the  trees  of  the  wood,  so  is  my  beloved  among  the  sons  of  men,"  led  him 
into  a  home  field,  and  in  apparent  sympathy  with  every  heart  he  deliv- 
ered a  plain,  forcible  sermon.  Standing  just  below  the  two  galleries, 
crowded  to  the  utmost,  the  large  choir  just  beneath  him,  he  took  the  lead 
in  every  exercise,  and  we  wondered  how  he  could  have  remaining 
strength  to  enter  the  sabbath-school  and  again  conduct  the  services. 
May  his  influence  be  powerful  to  raise  up  others  like  unto  him ! 

St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  East  Minster  of  olden  times,  stands  on  Lud- 
gate  Hill,  about  the  centre  of  London,  and  is  the  most  prominent  object 
in  the  metropolis.  It  is  sufficiently  near  the  truth,  guide-books  tell  us, 
to  say  that  it  is  365  feet  high,  and  there  are  two  handsome  bell-towers 
222  feet  high.  Its  bell  is  tolled  only  on  occasion  of  a  death  in  the  royal 
family.  It  was  built  under  the  direction  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  one 
architect  and  one  master-mason  having  been  employed  on  it  for  thirty- 
five  years,  and  cost  a  million  and  a  half  of  money  —  a  great  sum  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  the  time  when  it  was  built  to  supply  the  place 
of  one  destroyed  by  the  great  fire.  We  went  up  to  the  Whispering 
Gallery,  at  the  bottom  of  the  inner  dome,  and  seated  ourselves  to  hear 
somebody  whisper  from  the  other  side  of  the  dome.  Looking  straight 
ahead  to  the  point  from  which  we  expected  the  sound  to  proceed,  sud- 
denly our  little  girl  jumped,  turned- her  head,  and  asked  who  whispered 
in  her  ear.  She  examined  the  wall  to  find  the  place  whence  the  sound 
issued,  and  insisted  that  somebody  was  behind  there,  and  at  first  wS  were 
childish  enough  to  think  the  same  thing,  forgetting  that  we  were  in  the 


48  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

Whispering  Gallery.  In  the  crypt  beneath  are  the  tombs  of  many 
of  England's  noble  men,  and  among  the  number  is  that  of  the  architect 
of  fifty  of  London's  noblest  churches,  Sir  Christopher  Wren  ;  also  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  the  painters  West  and  Turner,  and  of  those  who  fought 
her  battles  and  gained  her  victories,  side  by  side,  Wellington  and  Nelson. 
The  outside  coffin  of  the  latter  was  originally  intended  for  Henry  VIII. 
and  cost  $4,000,000,  the  proceeds  of  a  tax  on  coal ;  the  inner  one  was 
made  from  the  mainmast  of  the  ship  L Orient,  captured  by  Nelson.  We 
ended  our  visit  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  by  a  choral  service  at  3  p.  M., 
when  we  listened  to  the  grand  tones  of  the  organ,  and  the  entire  service 
chanted  by  the  choir. 

There  was  one  place  in  London  where  we  could  see  the  persons 
of  celebrity  not  merely  of  modern  times  but  of  preceding  ages  and  dis- 
tant lands.  It  was  at  Madame  Tussaud's  wax-works.  There  were  —  as 
natural  as  life,  we  suppose —  Henry  VIII.  and  his  six  wives,  all  blooming 
and  fresh  and  beautiful,  not  looking  as  though  they  were  going  to  be  be- 
headed, or  divorced,  or,  what  was  worse,  live  with  the  old  tyrant  till  his 
days  could  be  dragged  out ;  the  present  royal  family,  and  the  mother 
of  that  same  family  undergoing  the  act  of  coronation  before  she  had 
even  a  husband  —  so  contradictory  is  life  ;  Shakspeare,  and  Napoleon  III., 
and  our  own  countrymen  too,  Washington,  and  Lincoln,  and  William  - 
Penn,  and  Tom  Thumb  ;  but  not  one  United  States  woman.  What  an 
interesting  day  was  that  spent  with  characters  we  had  never  expected  to 
meet ! 

All  people  have  their  ideas  of  fairy-land,  and  ours  were  fully  realized 
when  we  visited  the  Crystal  Palace.  We  do  not  expect  to  see  any- 
thing more  beautiful  in  our  life-time,  if  we  reach  the  allotted  age 
of  man.  Nature  and  Art  have  here  combined  their  powers,  and  the 
result  is  an  exquisite  production.  We  were  seven  hours  walking  through 
the  building,  stopping  often,  of  course,  to  admire,  and  once  to  partake 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  49 

of  what  became  ambrosia  and  nectar  to  us,  from  their  connection  with 
so  much  beauty.  We  seemed  to  be  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe. 
In  the  Greek  Court  we  saw  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  more  than  two 
thousand  years  old,  surrounded  by  beautiful  specimens  of  Greek  art,  the 
celebrated  Niobe  group,  the  Venus  de  Medici,  and  many  others.  In  the 
Roman  Court  the  walls  were  colored  in  imitation  of  porphyry  and  mala- 
chite. Venus,  Apollo,  and  Diana,  with  others  of  equal  beauty,  rendered 
the  scene  attractive.  These  were  followed  by  other  ancient  courts,  and 
these  again  by  the  medieval  courts  of  different  countries ;  not  the  statues, 
carvings  and  paintings  themselves,  of  course,  but  imitations  so  perfect 
that  one  at  least  who  had  never  looked  upon  the  originals  might  almost 
think  he  stood  before  them.  All  these  were  interspersed  with  plants 
and  fountains,  birds  of  beautiful  plumage,  and  shells  and  fishes  in  their 
native  element ;  also  by  the  productions  of  hand  and  brain  to  delight  the 
eye  and  ear.  Altogether  it  was  enchanting. 

We  could  hardly  be  expected  to  tell  all  that  we  saw,  describe  all  that 
we  visited,  in  this  city  of  cities  during  the  three  weeks  we  were  there  in 
'73  and  the  nine  days  in  '74 ;  but  friends  may  be  sure  we  often  went 
through  Threadneedle  street  and  called  upon  our  bankers,  J.  S.  Morgan 
&  Co. ;  went  over  most  of  the  fourteen  bridges  which  cross  the  Thames, 
and  once  went  under  it  through  the  Thames  Tunnel ;  to  Bunhill  Fields, 
the  "  Campo  Santo  "  of  Dissenters,  and  visited  the  tomb  of  John  Bunyan, 
where  the  Pilgrim  is  represented  as  making  but  very  little  Progress 
(except  in  crumbling  away)  on  his  monument  of  stone  ;  and  just  across 
the  way  to  the  church  where  Wesley  preached  his  last ;  to  Smithfield, 
where  now  is  an  extensive  market,  but  where  once  the  good  and  noble 
were  sacrificed  ;  to  Guildhall,  the  Hotel  de  Ville  (Town  Hall)  of  London  ; 
around  the  outside  walls  of  Newgate  Prison  ;  steamed  under  London  for 
many  miles  by  the  Underground  Railway  ;  saw  rough  men  drink  and 
fight,  then  walk  bootless  with  the  police ;  had  the  hat  of  one  of  our 
7 


J6  UNITEt)    STATfcS    GIRLS 

company  shaken  by  the  hand  of  a  shameless  woman  ;  and  our  experience 
in  London  was  nearly  finished.  It  only  remained  to  visit  Victoria  in  her 
home  at  Windsor. 

Twenty-two  miles  in  a  westerly  direction  and  we  approached  the  resi- 
dence of  her  Royal  Highness  ;  we  saw  the  walls  of  the  castle  at  a 
distance,  but  no  friendly  flag  threw  its  colors  to  the  breeze  to  welcome 
the  three  daughters  of  independent  America.  We  soon  learned  the 
cause  of  this  apparent  neglect.  The  Queen  had  remained  longer  than 
is  her  wont  in  her  winter  home  at  Windsor  to  entertain  the  Shah 
of  Persia,  and  when  he  left  for  Paris,  she  immediately  started  for  her 
summer  residence  in  Scotland,  and  so  we  were  unwelcomed.  But  Wind- 
sor is  no  insignificant  place  —  10,000  inhabitants  —  and  there  was  much 
to  be  seen  if  the  Queen  was  not  there ;  her  hundred  horses  were  in  their 
royal  stables,  except  the  few  she  had  taken  to  bonnie  Scotland,  and  there 
were  grand  views  to  be  seen  of  the  rooms  in  the  palace.  Said  palace 
was  undergoing  a  thorough  cleaning  after  its  Persian  visitation,  hence 
was  not  open  to  visitors,  even  if  they  did  come  from  across  the  Atlantic. 
We  went  into  St.  George's  Chapel  and  saw  the  resting-place  of  grim 
Henry  VIIL,  and  we  wondered  how  he  could  rest  with  but  one  of  his 
six  beautiful  wives  by  his  side — Lady  Jane  Seymour.  At  the  summit 
of  the  famous  Round  Tower  of  the  castle  we  were  amply  repaid  for  our 
trip  by  the  view  of  the  surrounding  country  ;  for  miles  and  miles  around 
it  was  all  one  grand  park,  including  several  rural  villages  with  all  their 
attractive  quiet  and  comfort,  the  white  spires  of  their  churches  pointing 
heavenward  and  the  white  marbles  of  their  churchyards  telling  that 
the  occupants  have  departed.  In  the  distance  lay  the  churchyard 
where  Gray  wrote  his  Elegy,  sitting,  perhaps, 

"  Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew  tree's  shade, 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap." 

When  we  left  the  town  which  provides  England's  sovereign  with  a 
home,  we  stopped  by  the  way  at  Eton  College,  founded  by  Henry  VI.  in 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  51 

1440 ;  at  Twickenham,  where  Pope  lived  and  was  buried ;  and  at  the 
Kew  Gardens,  where  the  palms  are  such  a  wonder  to  the  world,  rising  to 
the  height  of  sixty  feet  in  their  beautiful  crystal  home. 

One  more  night  within  this  capital  city,  and  early  morning  saw  us  on 
our  way  to  Dover.  We  left  the  shores  of  "Merrie  England,"  but  we 
entered  the  limits  of  a  merrier  country.  We  sailed  timorously  over  the 
restless  Channel,  known  to  fathom  men's  stomachs  —  not  souls ;  but  we 
anchored  safely  across  from  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover,  took  up  the  sachels 
and  shawl-straps,  and  spoke  the  new  tongue  with  all  the  grace  attainable. 
As  the  spirits  of  Rob  Roy  and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  had  seemed  to 
make  their  presence  felt  in  the  land  of  the  north  we  have  described  unto 
you,  so,  in  this  more  southern  clime,  the  eighteen  Louises  and  all  the 
Napoleons  have  seemed  to  hover  about  us. 

The  transportation  from  the  largest  city  in  the  world  (at  least  in  this 
part  of  the  globe)  to  its  nearest  rival  was  quickly  accomplished,  and  the 
sun  which  rose  upon  us  in  the  precincts  of  the  one,  shed  his  parting  rays 
within  the  walls  of  the  other.  Almost  all  persons  tell  a  story  of  long 
delays  and  troublesome  examinations  as  they  pass  from  one  country  to 
another,  but  the  "  United  Three  "  walked  through  their  gates  undelayed 
by  custom-house  officers  or  officials  of  any  description.  All  remember 
the  thanksgiving,  "  Blessed  be  nothing,"  and  ours  is  like  unto  it  (some- 
times.) 


PARIS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IND  friends,  we  opened  our  eyes  upon  this  charming 
city  at  the  witching  hour  of  gas-light,  and  drove  through 
the  mazes  of  the  Champs  Elysees  until  we  almost  thought 
we  were  truly  in  Elysian  Fields.  Boulevards,  avenues,  pal- 
aces, statues,  fountains,  arches,  columns,  and  domes  —  where 
are  they  mingled  so  beautifully  save  in  fairy-land  ?  Where 
do  they  sip  the  nectar  and  taste  the  ambrosia  under  the  open  air 
of  heaven,  save  among  those  who  feel  not  the  needs  of  the  body  nor  are 
oppressed  by  the  cares  of  the  mind?  Where  do  flowers  bloom  and 
fountains  play  under  the  wheels  of  the  chariot  and  the  hoofs  of  the 
steed,  save  in  the  realms  where  Beauty  reigns  and  the  Beast  is  a  myth  ? 
Where  does  Cupid  rule  with  a  golden  rod,  save  in  the  regions  where 
discord  is  not  ?  But  we  will  not  decide  until  the  morning  dawns,  and 
we  walk  the  streets  under  the  clear  light  of  day. 

Four  weeks  a  Parisian.  What  of  the  city  ?  We  have  taken  observa- 
tions from  the  highest  points,  looking  forward  from  the  Arc  de  Triomphe 
to  the  palace  and  garden  famous  in  the  history  of  this  city,  the  Tuileries ; 
noting  the  lines  of  trees  that  lift  their  heads  toward  the  Pavilions  in  that 
abode  of  kings  and  rulers  ;  viewing  with  wonder  Cleopatra's  Needle, 
which  adorns  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  on  the  spot  where  the  blood 
of  thousands  flowed  in  the  troublous  times  gone  by ;  admiring  the  com- 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  53 

bination  of  nature  and  art  in  the  flowers  of  the  field  and  the  productions 
of  man  in  the  Champs  Elysees ;  then  we  have  turned  backward  to  the 
same  broad  street  stretching  on  to  the  finest  park  in  the  world  —  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  —  observing  the  whirl  of  carriages  and  the  tramp 
of  feet,  the  fashion  and  display,  and  the  marks  of  need.  These  two 
boulevards,  with  ten  others  like  unto  them,  meet  around  this  arch,  rightly 
named  Arc  de  TEtoile,  (Arch  of  the  Star,)  the  rays  of  which  terminate 
before  they  reach  it,  leaving  it  alone  in  its  glory,  bright  and  beautiful. 
Nearly  every  one  of  the  twelve  boulevards  ends  in  the  distance  with 
some  prominent  building.  This  Arch  of  Triumph  was  commenced  in 
1806  by  Napoleon  I.  to  commemorate  his  victories  in  the  East.  The 
four  arches  are  90  feet  high  in  the  centre ;  the  total  height  is  152  feet, 
and  it  is  137  feet  square — a  grand  cube  with  a  passage  through  its  base 
from  east  to  west  and  another  from  north  to  south.  There  are  four 
magnificent  bas-reliefs  of  colossal  height,  and  on  the  vaulting  of  the 
great  arch  are  the  names  of  one  hundred  victories  and  four  hundred 
generals  of  the  Empire  and  Republic.  But  Napoleon  the  Great  was  not 
allowed  to  do  all  the  carving  upon  this  monument  of  which  Paris  is  so 
justly  proud.  Passing  over  the  reign  of  Charles  X.,  it  was  completed  by 
Louis  Philippe  in  1836.  At  the  close  of  the  late  Franco-German  war, 
it  must  have  been  a  grand  sight  to  see  the  noblest  citizens  of  France 
surround  their  loved  arch  and  stand  before  the  victorious  William 
of  Prussia,  with  arms  folded  upon  their  breasts,  telling  the  conqueror 
that  if  he  rode  through  it  would  be  over  their  lifeless  bodies.  The  noble 
king  could  afford  to  pass  around,  for  it  was  all  within  his  victorious  pos- 
session. 

Walking  from  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  eastward  toward  the  palace  of  the 
Tuileries  it  is  one  gradual  descent  half  the  way  and  the  same  ascent  the 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Arch  of  Triumph.    2.  Round  Point  on  the  street  called  Champs  Elysees, 
midway  between  the  Arch  of  Triumph  and  the  open  square.    3.  Place  de  la  Concorde. 


54  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

other  half,  the  first  mile  and  a  quarter  through  the  Champs  Elysees,  then 
through  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  and  the  Garden  of  the  Tuileries. 
These  Champs  Elysees,  fields  truly  Elysian,  were  originally  a  great 
space  covered  with  prairies  and  thick  gardens,  which  Marie  de  Medici 
began  to  transform  in  1616  by  setting  out  three  rows  of  trees  for  her 
own  pleasure  and  that  of  her  court.  These  alleys  still  bear  the  name 
of  Cours  de  la  Reine.  Just  half  way  between  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  and 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde  we  come  upon  the  Rond  Point,  (round  point,) 
where  are  six  of  the  most  beautiful  fountains  constantly  throwing  off  their 
water  in  the  form  of  spray  and  making  one  feel  almost  as  if  walking  in 
the  clouds  where  the  rays  of  sunlight  linger  and  tinge  with  rainbow  hues. 
Here  our  boulevard  widens  and  expands  and  multiplies  itself  until  it  is 
nearly  as  broad  as  it  is  long,  ornamented  and  divided  by  trees,  charming 
cafes  and  restaurants,  resounding  with  music,  furnishing  every  sort 
of  entertainment  to  every  age  and  class.  The  younger  one  of  our  party 
rode  in  a  petit  cabriolet  drawn  by  four  milk-white  goats,  while  we  occu- 
pied the  yellow  iron  chairs  and  enjoyed  the  scene.  Magnificent  flower- 
beds, called  riband-beds,  added  beauty  and  variety.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  these  glorious  Fields  that  the  English  army  encamped  in  1815,  com- 
manded by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  on  the  same  spot  now  rises  the 
Palais  de  1' Industrie,  built  in  1855  for  the  great  Exposition,  but  now 
used  for  exhibitions  of  paintings.  Passing  out  from  the  Champs  Elys6es 
between  the  Horses  of  Marly,  we  are  in  the  place  which  the  world 
knows  of  under  different  names  at  different  times.  It  has  been  baptized 
with  blood  and  truly  named  Place  de  la  Revolution.  At  the  marriage 
of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette,  twelve  hundred  people  were  killed 
on  this  spot  in  the  midst  of  a  panic  which  arose  among  the  people  and 
horses ;  and  later  in  the  lives  of  this  unfortunate  pair,  blood  flowed 
freely  indeed,  and  they  with  2,800  people  moistened  the  earth  with  their 
blood  in  the  space  of  two  years  and  four  months.  In  the  centre  of  this 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  $$ 

grand  Place,  where  Louis  XVI.  was  beheaded,  now  rises  the  Egyptian 
obelisk,  brought  tit  great  expense  from  Luxor,  and  occupying  three  years 
in  its  transportation.  It  formerly  stood  in  front  of  the  Temple  of  Thebes, 
erected  by  the  great  Sesostris  1500  years  B.  C.  It  is  of  rose-colored 
granite,  eighty  feet  high,  and  covered  with  hieroglyphics,  not  very  intel- 
ligible, but  very  interesting  nevertheless.  On  each  side  of  this  obelisk 
is  a  beautiful  fountain,  (one  devoted  to  maritime,  the  other  to  fluvial 
navigation,)  where  eight  dolphins  spout  streams  of  water  on  the  images 
in  the  centre,  which  falls  back  to  be  thrown  again.  Around  the  outer 
part  of  the  Place  are  eight  very  large  marble  statues,  which  represent 
the  principal  cities  of  France  —  Lyons  and  Marseilles,  Bordeaux  and 
Nantes,  Rouen  and  Brest,  Lille  and  Strasbourg,  (they  have  the  image 
of  the  last,  if  not  the  reality.)  The  ground  is  covered  with  white  sand, 
and  in  the  sun  is  glaring  and  hot,  presenting  a  most  perfect  contrast  to 
the  avenue  on  the  west  and  the  garden  on  the  east,  both  a  forest  of  trees, 
and  to  the  magnificent  buildings,  the  Madeleine  on  the  north  and  the 
Corps  Legislatif  on  the  south  across  the  Seine.  In  1814  the  Allies 
encamped  here;  in  1848  the  insurrection  commenced  here;  the  consti- 
tution of  the  Republic  was  read  here  !  What  next  ? 

The  Jardin  des  Tuileries  (Garden  of  the  Tuileries)  was  so  called  be- 
cause it  was  a  large  spot  of  ground  taken  by  Catharine  de  Medici,  in 
1554,  as  a  suitable  place  to  rear  for  herself  a  palace  which  should  surpass 
in  magnificence  all  that  had  been  raised  in  earlier  times.  It  is  about 
half  a  mile  long,  a  fifth  of  a  mile  wide,  and  contains  seventy-five  acres, 
lying  along  the  bank  of  the  Seine,  planted  with  horse-chestnut  and  lime 
trees  and  ornamented  with  statuary.  Having  passed  through  the  gar- 
den, where  we  lingered  by  the  way  to  listen  to  the  band  which  plays 
there  nearly  every  day  of  the  year,  we  come  face  to  face  with  what  was 
once  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and  we  stand  aghast  as  in  imagination 
we  follow  old  Father  Time  through  the  work  of  three  centuries,  and  in 


56  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

the  destruction  locks  grow  gray,  his  scythe  pierces  to  the  very  heart,  and 
palaces  rise  and  fall.  Here  first  was  the  bare  brickyard  which  supplied 
Paris  for  four  centuries  with  material  for  building  (tuile,  hence  the  name 
Tuileries,)  the  spot  which  Catharine  de  Medici  selected  as  a  site  for  her 
palace.  We  quote  from  the  French  :  "  The  labor  commenced  under  the 
direction  of  Philibert  de  Lorme  ;  he  had  scarcely  finished  the  pavilion 
of  the  centre,  known  now  under  the  name  of  Pavilion  de  P  Horloge,  and 
the  two  adjacent  wings,  when  he  was  stopped  by  the  superstition  of  his 
mistress.  An  astrologer  had  predicted  that  St.  Germain  would  be  fatal 
to  her,  and,  St.  Germain  being  the  name  of  the  parish  in  which  her 
palace  was  situated,  she  withdrew  to  the  Hotel  of  Soissons.  She  did  not 
escape  her  fate,  however,  for  the  priest  who  assisted  her  in  her  last 
moments  was  Lawrence  of  St.  Germain."  So  we  see  that  the  central 
pavilion,  which  so  long  bore  the  clock  of  the  Tuileries,  (just  three  miles 
away  from  the  famous  Arch  of  Triumph,  hidden  there  by  more  than  two 
centuries  of  time,)  was  the  first  of  this  stupendous  building,  which  has 
since  stretched  itself  in  both  directions  until  it  measures  about  a  fifth 
of  a  mile  in  length.  At  the  two  extremes  of  the  present  royal  structure, 
covering  and  enclosing  sixty  acres  of  ground,  the  Tuileries  and  the 
Louvre  were  originally  located,  but  Father  Time  has  wielded  a  wand 
more  than  a  scythe,  and  pavilion  after  pavilion  has  sprung  from  the  earth 
and  taken  its  stand  by  previous  constructions,  until  now  it  is  lengthened 
beauty  long  drawn  out,  and  the  Tuileries  and  the  Louvre  are  all  one. 
How  many  Louises  and  Henries  and  finally  Napoleons  has  Time  brought 
into  his  ranks  to  act  their  parts  in  the  drama  of  life,  and  fight  the  battles 
which  are  still  unfinished  —  to  rear  this  proud  pyramid  of  man's  great- 
ness, and  with  it  fall  to  the  ground  in  man's  weakness  ;  for  with  Napo- 
leon III.  fell  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  torn  down  by  the  Commune,  so 
that  no  emperor  or  king  should  have  a  place  for  his  royal  head. 

We  stood  in  the  room  of  the  Louvre  where  the  cruel  Catharine, 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  57 

wickedest  of  women,  (who  had  fled  in  superstition  from  the  palace  to  the 
fortress,)  looked  across  to  the  bell  in  the  church  of  St.  Germain  de 
1'Auxerrois  and  gave  the  signal  to  begin  the  massacre  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew—  a  massacre  in  which  seventy  thousand  Protestants  were 
butchered,  when  "  the  streets  were  red  with  blood  and  the  river  choked 
with  mutilated  bodies."  Thence  we  passed  slowly  through  the  almost 
numberless  rooms  and  the  sixteen  museums,  furnished  with  the  chefs 
d'ceuvre  of  deceased  artists  and  the  curiosities  and  wonders  of  every  age  ; 
through  the  various  salles  —  Salle  des  Caryatides,  from  the  four  colossal 
caryatides  of  Jean  Goujon,  who  ceased  not  in  his  work  during  the 
terrible  massacre  and  was  shot  at  his  post,  (here  is  the  famous  Venus  de 
Milo,  most  magnificent  specimen  of  Grecian  art) ;  Salle  des  Sept  Chemi- 
nees,  in  which  died  the  loved  Henry  IV.,  first  of  the  race  of  Bourbon 
and  the  one  who  granted  the  famous  Edict  of  Nantes — died  by  the 
assassin's  hand ;  Salon  Carre",  containing  the  richest  of  gems,  Murillo's 
Conception  ;  Long  Gallery,  of  five  compartments,  with  eighteen  hundred 
of  the  finest  specimens  the  world  furnishes,  one  devoted  to  Rubens' 
pictures  ;  Musee  Grec  et  Romain,  the  most  interesting  room,  perhaps,  in 
the  Louvre,  where  we  see  the  sceptre  of  Charlemagne,  a  shoe  worn  by 
Marie  Antoinette,  and  the  chair  of  King  Dagobert,  who,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  had  a  hunting-tower  on  this  spot  of  ground,  destined  to  become 
so  interesting  to  future  generations  ;  Salle  de  1'  Empereur,  containing  the 
sword  of  the  First  Consul,  Napoleon  the  Great,  and  the  hat  he  wore  in  the 
campaign  of  1815,  when  he  came  back  and  took  possession  of  his  loved 
palace  —  for  a  very  brief  period,  however ;  and  the  Musee  des  Dessins, 
where  fourteen  rooms  were  filled  with  models  of  interesting  localities 
and  things  —  the  Belle  Poule,  (the  vessel  which  brought  the  remains 
of  Napoleon  from  St.  Helena,)  the  country  around  Luxor,  the  home  of  the 
obelisk  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  etc. 

From  the  Old  Louvre,  404  feet  square,  surrounding  the  square  Court 
8 


$8  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

of  the  Louvre,  through  the  New  Louvre,  most  modern  part  of  these 
buildings,  planned  by  Napoleon  I.  but  finished  by  Napoleon  III.  in  1857, 
and  surrounding  Place  Napoleon  III.,  we  come  upon  the  Place  du  Car- 
rousel with  its  Arc  de  Carrousel,  raised  by  Napoleon  I.  in  1806  to  the 
glory  of  the  French  armies,  and  standing  just  back  of  what  was  once 
the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries.  Under  this  Arc  de  Carrousel  rode,  in  the 
great  Exposition  time,  Napoleon,  Alexander  of  Russia,  Bismarck,  and 
William  of  Prussia,  by  the  side  of  Eugenie,  under  the  horses  of  St.  Mark, 
(which  have  since  that  time  been  restored  to  their  true  owners  and  we 
shall  meet  them  at  Venice.)  But  where  is  the  palace  we  have  come  so 
far  to  see  —  the  palace  which  figured  so  largely  in  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, to  which  Louis  XVI.  came  smiling  in  1789,  but  from  which  he  stole 
by  night  in  1792,  when  his  faithful  Swiss  guards  were  nearly  all  massa- 
cred —  the  palace  which  Louis  Philippe  entered  with  the  insurgents  in 
1830,  but  from  which  he  fled  before  them  in  1848  —  the  palace  which 
the  nephew  of  the  great  Napoleon  took  under  the  title  of  President 
of  the  French  Republic,  held  under  that  of  Emperor  Napoleon  III.,  but 
was  forced  to  give  up  with  his  sword  at  Sedan  ?  Where  is  the  Palace 
of  the  Tuileries  ?  We  saw  everywhere  pictures  of  a  burning  palace  ;  we 
heard  tales  of  a  mad  mob  clambering  up  the  steps  of  the  imperial 
entrance,  entering  the  sleeping  apartments  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress, 
drawing  caricatures  upon  the  walls,  and  writing  over  the  doors,  "  The 
French  Republic  is  again  declared,"  and  "  Libert^,  Egalite"  et  Frater- 
nit6  "  ;  and  we  saw  a  long  line  of  ruins  facing  the  beautiful  Garden  of  the 
Tuileries  and  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  three  miles  away.  Has  old  Father 
Time,  surfeited  with  reaping,  yet  laid  down  his  scythe  ? 

Again,  from  the  pinnacle  of  the  Tour  St.  Jacques  we  have  looked 
around  upon  the  many  ecclesiastical  edifices  of  the  city.     Notre  Dame, 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Palace  of  the  Tuileries  and  the  Louvre.    2.  Tour  St.  Jacques  (Tower  of 
St.  James.)    3.  Church  of  the  Invalides.    4.  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.    5.  Tomb  of  Napoleon. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  59 

dating .  from  the  sixth  century,  (or  at  least  from  the  twelfth,)  rich  in 
decorations  of  art  and  interesting  in  historical  associations ;  the  scene 
of  nearly  every  extreme  in  the  life  of  man  ;  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel, 
offering  eternal  life  unto  all  who  believe,  and  the  taking  away  of  the  life 
of  the  body ;  the  coronation  of  the  emperor  and  the  baptism  of  the 
laborer's  child  ;  a  hay  loft,  a  wine  store,  and  a  church.  The  Madelaine, 
designed  by  Napoleon  as  a  temple  of  glory,  the  doors  of  which  church 
are  next  in  size  to  those  of  St.  Peter's.  The  Pantheon,  built  to  receive 
the  ashes  of  great  men  — -  the  place  where  Mirabeau,  Voltaire  and  Rous- 
seau were  buried.  Sainte  Chapelle,  a  lovely  little  gothic  shrine,  con- 
structed to  contain  the  holy  relics  brought  from  Jerusalem,  but  now  in 
Notre  Dame.  St.  Germain  de  TAuxerrois,  just  opposite  the  palace  of  the 
Louvre,  bearing  the  bell  which  gave  the  signal  for  the  destruction  of  the 
Protestants  in  the  cruel  days  of  Catharine  de  Medici.  The  Invalides, 
rising  high  above  every  surrounding  object,  and  marking  in  colors  of  gold 
the  resting-place  of  the  great  Napoleon.  St.  Jacques  has  given  us  the 
opportunity  of  looking  down  upon  these  and  many  other  churches  ;  and 
we  have  also  examined  them  from  a  different  stand-point,  walking  their 
aisles  alone  and  with  the  busy  throng,  admiring  their  beauties  and  striv- 
ing to  be  charitable  toward  their  defects. 

"  Few  buildings  in  Paris  offer  greater  attraction  for  strangers  than  the 
magnificent  monument  which  is  so  closely  connected  with  the  memory 
of  the  first  Napoleon.  From  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  an  asylum  for 
disabled  soldiers  was  established  in  an  old  convent  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Marcel.  Louis  XIII.  removed  it  to  Bicetre.  In  order  to  receive  the 
increasing  number  of  soldiers  put  out  of  service  by  his  annual  campaigns, 
Louis  XIV.  ordered  the  construction  of  an  edifice,  and  laid  the  first 
stone  in  1670.  The  principal  body  of  this  building  was  finished  by 
Bruant  in  1706.  It  was  he  who  finished  the  first  church.  The  second, 
more  magnificent  than  the  other,  and  which  is  known  under  the  name 


60  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

of  the  Church  of  the  Invalides,  is  the  one  whose  colossal  dome,  323  feet 
in  height,  covers  the  tomb  of  the  hero  of  Austerlitz.  It  is  the  work 
of  Mansard,  and  was  finished  in  1706.  The  buildings  as  a  whole  cover 
an  extent  of  twenty-eight  acres.  In  1789  it  was  called  the  Temple 
of  Humanity,  and  under  Napoleon,  who  enlarged  and  adorned  it,  it  was 
called  the  Temple  of  Mars.  Its  present  name  was  given  to  it  in  1815. 
The  facade  is  612  feet ;  it  is  four  stories  in  height,  and  is  ornamented 
with  a  profusion  of  military  subjects,  bronze  statues  of  vanquished 
nations,  and  an  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  XIV.  The  galleries  which 
surround  the  Court  of  Honor  are  adorned  with  paintings  of  the  four 
historical  epochs  of  France  —  those  of  Charlemagne,  St.  Louis,  Louis 
XIV.  and  Napoleon  I.  Provisions  are  made  for  six  thousand  private 
soldiers  a  day,  three  thousand  pounds  of  meat  being  cooked  daily.  War 
is  everywhere  glorified.  Of  the  sombre  reflections  which  it  inspires  one 
sees  nothing,  except  when  he  regards  the  mutilated  bodies  of  the  occu- 
pants of  this  magnificent  edifice."  We  have  translated  from  a  book 
purchased  in  sight  of  this  building,  but  it  does  not  tell  the  whole  story. 
Directly  beneath  the  dome  of  the  Invalides  lies  the  body  of  him  who 
said,  "  I  desire  that  my  ashes  may  repose  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  in 
the  midst  of  the  French  people,  whom  I  have  ever  loved."  Surely 
mortal  ambition  ought  to  be  satisfied  to  rest  beneath  such  a  splendid 
monument.  Unwittingly  perhaps,  Napoleon  prepared  it  for  himself;  for 
when  informed  that  his  people  had  become  uneasy  during  his  long 
absence  in  the  wars,  he  ordered  them  to  gild  the  dome  of  the  Invalides, 
and  so  give  the  people  employment  and  something  new  to  think  about. 
So  the  gilded  dome  of  the  Invalides  towers  above  everything  else,  and 
marks  the  spot  where  the  Emperor  lies.  The  rays  of  the  sun  come 
through  the  windows  of  stained  glass,  shedding  a  halo  of  glory  upon 
everything,  down  into  the  crypt  where  stands  his  mausoleum,  twelve  by 
six  feet,  on  a  base  of  green  granite.  The  pavement  is  decorated  with  a 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  6 1 

crown  of  laurels  in  mosaic,  and  the  principal  victories  of  Napoleon  are 
represented  by  twelve  colossal  statues  of  red  granite. 

Just  back  of  this  beautiful  church,  and  seen  through  the  windows 
between  them,  is  the  other  church  of  St.  Louis  — where  military  mass 
is  attended  every  Sunday  at  12  —  ornamented  with  the  tattered  flags 
of  vanquished  foes.  It  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  exercises  which 
we  attended,  to  listen  to  the  martial  music  and  see  the  files  of  soldiers 
march  in  with  measured  tread,  and  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  has  a  promi- 
nent place  on  memory's  page. 

Where  are  the  ruins  of  Paris  ?  Where  are  the  marks  of  devastation 
and  war  ?  Where  the  sounds  of  lamentation  and  woe  that  reached  to 
our  shores  but  two  short  twelvemonths  ago  ?  Paris  in  ruins,  her  people 
in  grief  ?  There  are  marks  of  the  destroyer's  hand ;  there  are  some 
shattered  walls  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  beauty,  some  buildings  razed 
to  the  ground  ;  but  the  work  of  reparation  goes  on,  and  soon  the  city 
will  be  renewed,  and  perhaps  be  all  the  brighter  for  the  cleansing  it  has 
received.  The  Arches  of  Triumph  rise  just  as  proudly  in  her  midst  if  a 
few  of  the  topmost  stones  have  been  displaced,  and  the  French  stand 
before  them  with  arms  upon  the  breast,  bidding  the  conquerer  go  around 
or  walk  over  their  bodies.  (King  William  of  Prussia  was  generous 
enough  to  do  the  former.)  The  Arc  de  Carrousel,  although  in  the  very 
midst  of  ruins,  stands  a  memento  of  former  rejoicing — rejoicing  when 
crowned  heads  rode  in  gilded  carriages  beneath  this  arch,  as  the  fabled 
goddess  still  drives  her  brazen  steeds  on  the  spot  where  stood  the  famous 
horses  of  St.  Mark,  crowning  this  arch  of  joy.  And  where  are  the 
crowned  heads  ?  They,  too,  lie  low.  Will  they  rise  again,  to  wear  a 
more  brilliant  crown  ?  Will  the  regal  hand  be  stretched  forth  to  resume 
the  sceptre  again  ?  Echo  answers  —  Again.  The  Place  Vendome  has 
lost  its  ornament,  the  square  is  without  its  glory  —  the  statue  of  Napo- 
leon. First  there  was  the  statue  of  Louis,  then  of  General  Bonaparte 


62  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

with  the  familiar  three-cornered  cocked-hat,  and  afterwards  the  Emperor 
Napoleon  in  citizen's  dress,  which  the  enraged  Commune  tore  down  with 
ropes  when  they  took  the  government  in  their  hands.  Time  will  tell 
whom  the  French  will  raise  on  pedestals  in  the  days  to  come. 

This  people  have  often  been  censured  because  they  have  no  word  for 
home  in  their  language.  Perhaps  they  do  not  need  one ;  they  make 
their  streets  so  attractive,  their  public  buildings  so  pleasant,  their  tables 
in  the  open  boulevards  and  at  the  doors  of  the  restaurants  and  cafes  so 
tempting,  the  society  of  one  another  so  desirable,  that  home  may  be 
of  minor  importance.  Certain  it  is  that  they  seem  very  happy  at  their 
dejeuners  at  noon  and  their  diners  at  six.  We  cannot  vouch  for  their 
suppers  toward  the  hour  of  midnight,  as  we  were  never  present  at  this 
meal.  Everybody,  from  the  baby  up,  drinks  wine,  but  there  is  certainly 
less  disturbance  in  the  streets,  fewer  marks  of  the  effect  of  strong  drink, 
than  we  see  in  our  quiet  little  towns  at  home.  The  independent  three 
have  been  great  cause  of  wonder  to  those  who  supplied  them  at  the 
table  because  they  drank  what  they  pleased. 

The  French  must  be  a  domestic  people,  as  their  love  for  pets  would 
conclusively  show  ;  scarcely  a  person  walks  the  street  without  a  quad- 
ruped of  some  kind  either  in  the  arms  or  at  the  heels.  What  must  have 
been  the  state  of  things  before  the  thirty  thousand  canines  fell  victims 
to  cruel  war !  Speaking  of  the  domestic  qualities  of  this  people  reminds 
us  of  their  bread.  The  first  time  we  sat  at  a  French  table  we  thought 
the  polite  waiter  had  been  extremely  remiss  in  placing  a  stick  of  wood 
on  one  end  of  the  table;  but  our  friends,  better  informed,  took  up  said 
article  and  proceeded  to  demolish  —  not  the  waiter,  but  —  the  stick ; 
and  French  bread,  we  must  acknowledge,  is  good,  if  it  does  stand 
uncovered  in  all  public  places  and  pass  through  all  manner  of  trans- 
portation. 

But  of  all  strange  things  in  this  strange  country,  the  strangest  is  the 


ACROSS  THE  ATLANTIC.  63 

spending  of  the  Sabbath  day.  Some  people  do  not  work,  but  if  not,  they 
usually  play.  If  the  doors  are  closed  to  business,  it  is  usually  because 
the  employers  and  employed  are  in  places  of  amusement. 

We  can  say  but  little  of  the  straight-forward  honesty  of  the  French 
people;  of  one  thing,  however,  we  are  sure  —  whenever  they  could  get 
a  few  sous  out  of  American  pockets  their  consciences  allowed  them  to 
do  so.  A  gentleman  whose  knowledge  of  French  consisted  in  "  Cin- 
quante  centieme  beef-steak"  drew  forth  a  handful  of  the  coins  .of  the 
country  to  allow  a  guide  to  satisfy  himself,  and  every  piece  of  it  instantly 
disappeared.  In  a  small  store  where  room  was  scarce  and  goods  were 
arranged  on  high  shelves,  a  purchase  was  made  and  the  wrong  change 
returned  as  usual.  The  customer  was  indignant,  and  made  use  of  all 
the  French  at  command  to  convince  the  merchant  of  the  dishonesty 
of  the  transaction,  but  he  deliberately  ascended  some  steps  used  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  down  goods,  and  seated  himself  on  the  topmost  one, 
coolly  surveying  those  standing  below,  and  at  the  energetic  threat,  "  Je 
ne patronize  vous"  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  they  left  in  disgust. 

There  is  more  in  this  city  of  Paris  than  we  could  visit  in  three  weeks 
of  1873  and  in  six  of  1874,  and  more  that  we  visited,  improving  nearly 
every  day  of  the  time,  than  we  could  think  of  telling  our  friends  about ; 
but  some  of  the  excursions  to  the  environs  are  too  interesting  to  omit. 
Four  miles  will  be  considered  by  many  a  long  distance  for  a  lady  and 
little  girl  to  walk,  but  we  did  it  more  than  once  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
and  there  met  those  who  preferred  to  go  by  the  chemin  deferAmericain, 
(American  street-cars,)  or  by  one  of  the  many  omnibus  lines  going  in 
the  same  direction.  We  have  before  this  taken  our  readers  from  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe  eastward  to  the  Tuileries,  now  we  will  start  from  the 
same  point  and  go  in  an  opposite  direction  through  the  Avenue  de  la 
Grand  Armee  to  the  Porte  Maillot,  one  of  the  seventy  gates  by  which 
we  can  leave  Paris.  Probably  an  officer  stands  there  to  scrutinize  us 


64  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

closely,  but  the  innocent  need  not  fear,  so  we  walk  through,  paying  no 
attention  to  his  keen  glances.  We  are  already  just  upon  the  border 
of  the  ancient  wood  —  Bois  de  Boulogne  —  four  miles  long  and  two  miles 
wide,  enclosed  in  its  entire  length  between  the  fortifications  of  the  gay 
city  and  the  river  Seine,  which  winds  about  like  a  serpent,  as  if  loth  to 
leave  so  much  beauty  and  pleasure.  And  we  wonder  not  that  the  rays 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  and  the  water  of  earth's  river  should  travel  to  this 
point  with  the  children  of  men,  for  here  is  wherewith  to  please  every 
nature  and  every  mood,  from  the  quiet  scenes  of  the  wild  wood  to  the 
festive  ones  of  fashionable  life.  Soon  after  we  entered  the  precincts 
of  the  wood  we  noticed  an  enclosure,  for  admission  to  which  a  few  sous 
must  be  given,  and  then  we  were  in  the  Jardin  Zoologique  d'Acclimata- 
tion,  where  every  plant  and  animal  under  the  sun  may  find  a  home. 
Even  the  dogs  of  all  lands  had  their  kennels  in  close  proximity,  but 
they  did  not  have  their  liberty,  or  some  of  them  would  evidently  have 
left  when  a  darling  little  French  poodle  came  into  their  neighborhood  at 
the  heels  of  its  master,  for  no  sooner  had  it  appeared  in  sight  than  every 
canine,  up  to  the  bull-dog  and  blood-hound,  ran  to  the  limits  of  his  wall 
or  chain,  then  lifted  up  his  voice  and  barked.  What  a  concert !  We 
have  heard  of  "  Bedlam  let  loose,"  and  we  are  sure  that  said  poodle 
thought  he  was  in  the  midst  of  said  region,  for  he  was  too  frightened 
to  stir,  and  was  borne  off  in  the  arms  of  his  owner. 

The  Aquarium  is  a  building  fifty  yards  in  length,  so  constructed  that 
no  light  enters  except  from  the  sides  through  fourteen  reservoirs  filled 
with  water,  in  which  the  curious  ways  of  the  finny  tribes  may  be  studied, 
and  as  we  walked  through  the  entire  length  we  seemed  to  be,  with  the 
famous  French  writer,  Jules  Verne,  many  leagues  under  the  sea. 

Approaching  one  of  the  picturesque  lakes,  we  saw  a  natural  prejudice 
toward  color  acted  with  all  the  dignity  of  the  race  of  swans.  Several 
noble  looking  specimens  of  the  forementioned  genus,  but  of  the  species 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.        t  65 

Niger,  came  sailing  toward  the  shore  with  too  much  haste  to  be  graceful, 
and  stepping  quickly  upon  the  grass,  ran  far  from  the  water's  edge,  while 
in  the  distance  appeared  a  single  grand  Cygnus  moving  majestically  over 
the  waters,  with  snow-white  plumage  all  erect  and  neck  curved  in  proud 
disdain.  A  single  step  upon  the  land,  and  seeing  the  fugitives  beyond 
her  reach,  she  left  them  in  entire  possession  and  returned  to  the  water 
from  which  she  had  driven  them. 

To  complete  the  feeling  that  we  were  in  all  parts  of  the  world  at  the 
same  time,  we  stood  where  all  sorts  of  beasts  of  burden  and  equipages 
were  in  readiness  to  accommodate  the  traveler  in  this  part  of  the  Bois. 
Two  mammoth  elephants  gave  their  backs  to  the  foreigner,  whose 
names,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  showed  that  they  came  from  beneath  Italian 
skies,  and  we  were  told  that  they  were  a  gift  from  the  King  of  Italy  to 
supply  the  place  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  who  were  eaten  during  the  late 
siege  of  Paris,  together  with  most  of  the  animals  then  accumulated. 
Camels  from  Algeria  kneeled  for  their  riders  and  shook  them  unmerci- 
fully, lifted  up  among  their  peaks.  An  ostrich  from  the  desert  bared  its 
breast  to  the  harness  and  presented  the  unique  spectacle  of  a  two-legged 
horse.  All  kinds  of  ponies  and  donkeys  from  Java  and  India  and  other 
remote  lands  completed  the  conveniences  for  being  borne  through  this 
forest,  and  we  pedestrians  walked  back  to  our  Parisian  home. 

Another  day  we  went  almost  directly  across  from  the  Bois  already 
visited  to  one  which  began  even  earlier  to  send  its  legends  down  to 
coming  generations.  The  Bois  de  Vincennes  contains  more  than  2,500 
acres,  (we  hardly  need  to  say  it  lies  without  the  walls.)  The  chateau 
dates  back  almost  to  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century  and  comes  along 
up  with  the  centuries  until  it  is  now  a  fortress,  containing  within  its  walls, 
nine  feet  thick,  an  arsenal,  barracks,  etc.,  watched  over  by  the  same  grim 
old  donjon,  rising  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in  the  air.  Exercising  the 
rights  of  independent  women  of  America,  we  ascended  the  five  stories 
9 


66  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

of  this  only  remaining  tower  of  the,  nine  original  ones,  and  looked  upon 
the  "playful  Marne  rippling  merrily  along"  till  it  joins  its  sister,  Seine, 
and,  clasped  in  each  other's  embrace,  they  enter  the  "  city  of  gardens  "  in 
the  southeast  part  and  pass  frolicking  through  the  most  beautiful  portion, 
having  their  waters,  about  a  sixteenth  of  a  mile  wide,  bridged  twenty- 
seven  times.  Mirabeau,  the  Duke  d'Enghien,  and  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour, with  a  host  of  other  historical  characters,  passed  in  procession 
before  our  minds,  and  the  Bois  de  Vincennes  became  a  new  place  unto  us. 

A  day  in  the  cemetery  of  Pere  Lachaise  showed  us  the  resting-place 
of  persons  of  note  and  the  interesting  tomb  of  Abelard  and  Heloise, 
with  five  beautifully  sculptured  steeples,  fourteen  columns  and  ten  arches, 
formed  from  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey  of  the  Paraclete,  which  Abelard 
founded  and  of  which  Heloise  was  the  first  abbess.  Here  was  practiced 
the  novel  method  of  renting  a  burial-place  for  from  one  to  five  years  and 
then  giving  it  up  to  other  occupants. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  churches  was  St.  Denis,  four  miles 
from  Paris,  the  burial-place  of  the  kings  of  France  from  Dagobert,  in 
580,  to  Louis  XVIII.  It  stands  on  the  site  of  a  chapel  built  for  the 
remains  of  St.  Denis,  who  was  beheaded  for  propagating  the  Christian 
faith.  Down  two  flights  of  stairs  we  came  into  the  presence  of  the  old 
in  death.  The  statue  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  kneeling  with  uplifted 
hands,  stands  by  the  side  of  her  husband,  Francis  II.  ;  but  where  is  her 
body  ?  The  father  and  mother  of  Charlemagne  lie  here,  but  only  the 
sarcophagus  in  which  the  great  emperor  was  buried  at  Aix  la  Chapelle, 
for  his  body  was  found  there  sitting  in  its  tomb.  Napoleon  I.  intended 
to  lie  here  surrounded  by  those  of  his  dynasty,  but  others  planned  dif- 
ferently when  they  sent  him  to  St.  Helena. 

After  many  more  excursions  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe,  on  the 
1 3th  of  August,  1873,  we  left  for  a  season  the  beautiful  city  which  had 
been  our  home  for  three  weeks,  with  two  faces  upon  our  shoulders,  one 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  6/ 

looking  backward  with   regret   to  the  joys   behind,  and   one   looking 
forward  with  delight  to  the  pleasures  before  us, 

The  principal  point  of  attraction  to  us  was  the  Chateau  of  Fontaine- 
bleau,  so  after  a  two  hours'  ride  in  a  southeasterly  direction  we  came  to 
another  stopping-place  on  the  banks  of  the  same  Seine,  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  magnificent  forest  over  sixty  miles  in  circumference  and  containing 
from  forty  to  sixty  thousand  acres  of  wooded  land,  interspersed  with  little 
white  villages  where  artists  paint  and  rusticate.  A  neighboring  city, 
Melun,  is  mentioned  by  Caesar  in  his  Commentaries,  under  the  name 
of  Melodunum,  so  doubtless  the  great  general  has  been  here  before  us, 
but  on  a  less  peaceful  errand.  The  origin  of  the  name  of  this  forest 
seems  to  be  a  somewhat  contested  one,  but  the  oldest  form  was  Fons 
Blialdi,  the  Fountain  of  the  Cloak,  in  reference  to  a  hidden  spring 
of  water.  It  is  said  that  one  of  its  royal  occupants,  Henri  IV.,  dated  a 
letter,  "  From  our  lovely  wilderness  of  Fontaine  Belle-Eau."  The  cha- 
teau is  composed  of  buildings  of  different  epochs  grouped  around  several 
courts,  and  we  entered  it  by  the  one  long  known  as  the  Court  of  the 
White  Horse,  from  the  statue  of  a  horse  moulded  after  that  of  the  statue 
of  Marcus  Aurelius  on  the  Capitoline  Hill  at  Rome.  It  is  now  called 
the  Court  of  Adieux,  because  here  Napoleon  bade  his  soldiers  farewell 
on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  Elba.  Passing  through  the  long  line 
of  rooms,  all  of  which  are  a  sort  of  geographical  museum,  we  saw  the 
table  which  bears  the  inscription,  "  The  5th  of  April,  1814,  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  signed  his  abdication  upon  this  table  in  the  king's  study." 
The  ghost  of  Marie  Antoinette  haunts  this  scene  as  it  does  many  spots 
of  historical  interest  in  the  land  of  France.  We  pass  through  her 
chambre  a  cottcher,  and  the  adjoining  one,  her  dressing-room,  where  the 
window  fastenings  were  made  by  her  husband's  own  hand,  out  into  the 
garden,  where  the  Chasselas  grape  covers  a  wall  of  a  mile  in  length. 
The  carps  rise  out  of  their  watery  beds  with  mouths,  too  large  for  beauty, 


68  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS. 

stretched  wide  open  for  the  crumbs  we  bring  with  us.  A  long  walk 
through  the  picturesque  forest  carpeted  with  brown  heather,  and  another 
refreshing  sleep  before  we  take  the  cars  for  Dijon. 

Shall  we  stop  to  tell  you  of  the  old  church  where  the  Jacquemars  rang 
the  bell,  or  go  to  Lyons  and  wander  between  the  Rhone  and  Saone, 
flowing  side  by  side  through  this  old  city,  where  Claudius  and  Caligula 
were  born,  (there  certainly  is  not  time  to  talk  about  the  manufacture 
of  silks,  although  many  people  may  be  interested  in  that  subject,)  cross 
both  these  streams  and  ascend  the  heights  of  Fourvieres,  or,  higher  still, 
up  to  the  dome  of  Notre  Dame  de  Fourvieres,  and,  if  the  day  is  clear, 
get  the  first  glimpse  of  Mont  Blanc  ? 


SWITZERLAND. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

UR  newly-adopted  watchwords  are  "  On  to  the  moun- 
tains," so  on  we  go,  and  before  we  are  aware  of  it  the 
mountains  are  reached.  The  country  is  magnificently  wild, 
the  peaks  rise  higher  and  higher  around  us,  and  we  ever  and 
anon  dive  into  the  depths  of  the  mountain  beds,  and  in 
darkness  the  minutes  lengthen  out  to  hours.  But  darkness  comes  upon 
us  by  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  and  a  heavy  shower  waits  upon  us 
into  the  capital  of  Switzerland.  The  borders  have  been  passed  by 
simply  repeating  the  word  "  Americans,"  and  a  bow  and  a  smile  bid  us 
God  speed. 

After  the  first  rainy  day  in  Europe,  (the  first  that  has  overtaken  the 
United  Three,)  a  tour  of  observation  is  begun  out  of  the  city  into  the 
country.  Yes,  out  of  Switzerland  into  France,  to  visit  the  home 
of  Voltaire.  Who  would  ride  when  the  roads  are  like  the  floor,  smooth 
and  clean,  the  roadsides  grassy  and  decked  with  flowers  that  remind  us 
of  home  across  the  deep  waters  —  dandelion,  thistle,  spearmint,  and  the 
darling  little  Flirt  Robert,  that  always  brings  before  us  loved  faces 
of  yore ;  the  hedges,  inviting  and  green,  ofttimes  loaded  with  tempting 
berries  ;  who  would  ride,  if  they  had  health  and  strength  to  walk  ?  Not 
we.  The  guide-books  say  that  a  fine  view  of  Mont  Blanc  is  to  be 
obtained  somewhere  on  this  route,  so  with  one  eye  over  our  shoulder,  for 
we  know  it  is  behind  us,  we  set  out.  All  of  a  sudden,  between  the 


7O  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

green  poplars,  a  vision  bursts  upon  us.  Could  it  be  aught  but  a  vision  ? 
Could  anything  earthly  put  on  such  an  appearance  of  the  everlasting 
hills  in  the  realms  where  foot  of  man  never  trod  ?  Just  above  the 
horizon,  yes,  up  in  the  azure  blue,  the  home  of  the  clouds,  appeared  a 
creation  like  unto  the  clouds  themselves  in  delicacy  and  whiteness, 
seeming  to  melt  away  at  a  breath  of  the  wind  and  assume  a  new  form  at 
every  change  of  the  atmosphere.  Two  objects  our  eyes  have  looked 
upon  which  have  seemed  somewhat  similar  unto  this  —  the  National 
Capitol  at  Washington  seen  from  the  Potomac  many  miles  away,  and 
icebergs  upon  the  ocean  ;  but  this  is  the  grandest  sight  of  all. 

At  Fernet,  the  home  of  Voltaire,  were  the  faces  of  Washington  and 
Benjamin  Franklin  seen  for  the  first  time  on  this  continent,  and  the 
sight  did  our  eyes  good.  From  the  garden  a  most  enchanting  view 
of  Mont  Blanc  was  again  obtained,  and  it  was  enough  for  one  day. 

Another  day,  the  junction  of  the  Arve  and  the  Rhone  was  sought,  and 
found  about  a  mile  away.  They  flow  quite  closely  together  for  a  little 
distance,  a  long,  sharp  point  of  land  separating  them,  each  showing  its 
source  and  its  course.  The  Arve,  coming  from  the  mountains  whose 
.peaks  are  in  the  clouds,  down  through  the  fissures  in  the  glaciers,  bear- 
ing along  dirt  and  sand  and  stone,  bears  the  hue  of  cloud  and  stone,  and 
rolls  boldly  along  as  if  ready  and  anxious  to  encounter  obstacles ;  the 
Rhone,  washed  in  the  waters  of  the  lake  which  it  has  just  left,  comes 
smiling  peacefully  with  a  look  of  heavenly  blue  mirrored  in  its  face, 
rightly  called  "  the  blue  Rhone."  And  so  they  come  together,  the  blue 
and  the  gray.  The  gray  rolls  out  into  the  blue,  just  as  in  the  ether 
above  the  fleecy  clouds  of  Autumn  are  followed  by  heavy  darker  ones  ; 
and  the  blue  yields  not  to  the  gray,  but  continues  on  its  course  all  undis- 
turbed, yet  determined  to  gain  the  victory.  The  struggle  goes  on  as  far 
as  the  eye  can  reach.  Standing  at  the  point  of  contact,  and  watching 
this  apparent  struggle,  we  strive  to  recall  the  words  of  a  touching  little 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  7 1 

poem  so  familiar  to  us  all,  "  The  Blue  and  the  Gray,"  and  in  imagination 
we  see  two  armies  before  us  in  fierce  contest ;  the  waves  become  the  din 
of  battle  in  our  ears,  and  also  the  smoke  of  the  cannon  to  our  eyes  ;  the 
life-blood  of  brothers  flows  freely  ;  but  we  remember  the  conclusion 
of  the  poem  : 

"  They  sleep  peacefully  side  by  side, 
Yea,  in  one  grave,  the  blue  and  the  gray." 

A  week  passed  at  Geneva,  and  we  start  for  those  mountains  we  have 
looked  upon  so  admiringly,  feeling  somewhat  afraid  that  we  shall  prove 
the  truth  of  the  words,  "  Distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view."  At 
the  appointed  time  we  are  at  the  starting  point,  and  with  alacrity  we 
mount  the  ladder  which  takes  us  to  the  upper  seats  of  the  diligence, 
bound  for  Chamouni.  Up,  up  we  go,  higher  than  we  ever  rode  before, 
to  the  front  seat  of  the  coach,  which  carries  about  thirty  persons,  twenty 
outside  and  ten  inside.  (How  we  pitied  those  below ! )  Five  horses, 
three  in  front  and  two  in  the  rear,  stand  ready  before  the  coach  to  bear 
us  along.  Crack  !  crack  !  crack  !  goes  the  whip,  and  we  are  on  our  way. 
Now  we  are  in  a  place  where  we  can  look  over  those  walls  which  have 
troubled  us  so  much  in  Europe,  and  we  gaze  into  pretty,  flourishing  gar- 
dens, much  pleasanter  to  look  upon  than  the  walls  which  hide  them  from 
view. 

The  day  is  all  that  we  could  desire  and  the  company  agreeable.  Some 
Frenchmen  in  the  rear  discuss  in  an  interested  manner  affairs  of  state 
and  the  consequences  of  war  ;  at  our  side  some  Germans  talk  of  Deutch- 
land  in  their  own  guttural  tongue  ;  in  more  familiar  accents  some  English 
enumerate  the  virtues  of  their  land  and  queen,  and  an  American  girl 
eulogizes  the  sweets  of  maple  sugar.  We  are  quiet,  and  wonder  if  we 
are  not  up  in  the  Tower  of  Babel. 

We  leave  the  beautiful  little  city  on  the  lake  in  the  background,  and 
drive  through  little  old  towns  and  villages,  through  a  country  beautiful, 
more  beautiful  than  parks.  The  mountains  grow  higher,  more  bold  and 
craggy,  till  finally  Mont  Blanc  completes  the  picture. 


•jl  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

Everybody  tells  of  fleet-footed  children  running  after  the  carriage  a 
long  distance,  and  with  extended  hand  begging  for  a  pittance.  We  heard 
below  us  a  sound  like  the  mewing  of  a  kitten,  and  looking  down,  there 
was  the  identical  little  beggar,  with  red  cheeks,  blue  eyes,  and  flaxen 
hair,  pursuing  the  coach  at  the  top  of  her  speed,  and  keeping  up  with  it 
too,  holding  out  her  father's  hat  for  the  sous  which  she  might  receive. 
But  it  was  not  merely  pretty  little  girls  who  asked  for  alms.  There  were 
great  foolish  boys,  whose  faces  showed  that  they  had  not  sufficient  intel- 
ligence to  care  whether  they  received  aught  or  no ;  and  old  blind  men 
led  by  a  child  or  dog ;  a  mother  with  a  neck  larger  than  her  head,  and 
carrying  in  her  arms  a  pitiably  simple  child.  The  scenes  are  inter- 
mingled, not  all  lowly  and  disgusting,  not  all  glorious  and  sublime. 

Our  ride  for  thirty  miles  from  Geneva,  nearly  all  the  time  by  the  side 
of  the  Arve,  was  very  enjoyable  ;  but  at  mid-day  the  sun  beat  down  upon 
us,  and  our  seat  was  too  high  and  the  movement  too  fast  to  examine  all 
the  points  as  we  desired,  or  to  distinguish  the  genera  or  even  the  order 
of  the  numerous  botanical  specimens  scattered  in  profusion  about  us  ;  so 
we  descended  from  our  elevated  position  and  became  pedestrians.  Then 
we  were  independent,  and  provided  with  note-book,  guide-book,  writing 
materials,  Botany  of  Switzerland  and  French  Testament,  who  could 
enjoy  the  remaining  twelve  miles  to  Chamouni  better  than  we  ?  Mont 
Blanc  is  straight  before  us,  they  say  twelve  miles  away,  but  we  feel  like  the 
little  girl  of  our  party,  who  is  ready  to  argue  the  point,  saying  it  cannot 
be  more  than  half  a  mile  away,  for  there  are  the  footsteps  in  the  snow. 
We  shall  soon  find  out,  however. 

Not  only  the  people  of  this  land,  but  of  all  lands,  for  they  seem  to  be 
represented  here,  should  bless  the  name  of  Napoleon  for  one  good  he 
accomplished  —  the  making  of  splendid  roads  -in  this  otherwise  wild 
country.  The  Nicholson  pavement  of  our  cities  is  no  better,  the  hard 
stony  pavements  not  nearly  so  good. 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC.  73 

The  pines  and  poplars  are  everywhere,  fences  are  few,  and  if  a  cow 
chances  to  be  in  sight,  it  is  with  a  bell  around  her  neck  and  some 
old  man  or  woman  at  her  side  watching  every  mouthful  she  takes. 
Where  are  the  men  of  Switzerland,  while  the  women  are  raking  the  hay, 
driving  the  mules,  caring  for  the  babies,  and  cooking  the  meals  ?  Perhaps 
they  are  making  the  beds,  as  we  found  strong,  healthy  young  men  doing 
in  Paris  ;  or  perhaps  they  went  to  the  war  and  never  came  back  again. 
Where,  too,  are  the  lovely  little  Swiss  cottages  of  which  we  have  seen  so 
many  models?  We  have  looked  for  them  wherever  a  building  was 
visible  in  the  fields  and  among  the  trees,  but  instead  we  have  found  a 
dwelling-place  for  man  and  beast  under  the  same  roof,  with  better  accom- 
modations for  the  latter  than  the  former,  and  an  unmistakable  animal 
odor  pervading  the  entire  premises.  But  we  continue  the  search  for  the 
pretty  Swiss  cottages.  Was  ever  road  so  beautiful,  so  romantic,  as  the 
one  we  pursue  ?  Winding  in  all  directions  at  the  foot  of  towering 
mountains,  and  high  above  that  frisking,  leaping,  passionate  little  stream 
of  whose  end  we  have  already  told  you,  and  which  we  have  learned  to 
love  by  following  it  in  its  wanderings,  as  the  mother  does  the  wayward 
child. 

We  took  one  interesting  meal  during  this  our  first  walk  among  the 
Alps.  "  A  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient,"  so  we  had  provided  ourselves 
with  a  spirit-lamp  and  materials  for  preparing  a  lunch  should  circum- 
stances require  it.  Just  at  the  hour  of  noon  we  came  upon  a  wee 
cornfield,  a  few  stalks  growing  up  fresh  and  vigorous  from  among  the 
stones  laid  down  perhaps  to  draw  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  we  asked  the 
farmer  to  sell  us  an  ear  or  two  of  corn,  which  he  very  kindly  did.  Sitting 
down  by  a  spring  on  the  roadside,  with  the  rocks  so  high  that  old  Sol 
could  hardly  get  a  glimpse  of  us,  and  the  Arve  playing  the  wildest  music 
away  below  out  of  sight,  and  the  long  line  of  mountains  in  front  of  us 
bearing  the  name  of  Tete  de  Napoleon,  from  the  fancied  resemblance 
10 


74  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

of  its  summit  to  the  profile  of  the  Little  Corporal,  we  had  our  lamp 
trimmed  and  burning,  and  our  corn  cooking,  while  we  sat  lost  in  admira- 
tion and  awe.  We  were  suddenly  brought  to  our  senses  by  falling  rain- 
drops glistening  in  the  sunshine.  The  romance  was  gone,  and  we  were 
soon  gone  too ;  our  fires  were  extinguished,  and  with  provisions  in  hand 
we  were  seeking  a  shelter.  We  soon  found  a  Swiss  —  not  cottage 
exactly,  but  al  least  a  house,  and  knocking  at  the  door,  a  woman  opened 
unto  us  and  cordially  invited  us  in  French  to  come  in.  We  explained 
the  state  of  things,  and  she  gave  us  permission  to  finish  our  repast  then 
and  there  ;  so,  on  the  dirt  floor,  with  the  bare  black  walls  about  us,  and 
the  odor  coming  to  our  nasal  organs  which  showed  that  the  cattle  occu- 
pied the  same  house  at  least  a  part  of  the  year,  we  dined  on  our  corn 
and  black  bread  procured  of  the  woman,  (should  have  had  milk  also,  but 
the  goats  had  just  been  driven  to  the  mountains  in  search  of  greener 
pastures.)  The  shower  and  the  lunch  were  finished  at  about  the  same 
time,  and  we  continued  on  our  way.  The  sun  sets  at  four  o'clock,  and 
we  seek  shelter,  after  a  walk  of  six  miles. 

Of  course  we  have  bread  and  honey  for  breakfast,  and  then  continue 
the  walk  by  the  side  of  the  Arve.  Gladly  would  we  paint  the  bright, 
starry  specimens  we  saw  in  that  walk  —  the  same  heather  we  saw  on  the 
Bens  of  Scotland  and  in  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau  ;  the  same  yellow 
papilionaceous  blossoms  we,  have  seen  in  all  countries  on  this  continent, 
and  others  of  the  same  form  of  corolla,  white,  purple,  blue  and  yellow, 
which  turn  to  us  such  expressive  faces  that  they  need  no  words  to  tell 
interesting  stories  ;  the  lovely  species  of  viola  which  we  have  seen  in  no 
country  except  Switzerland,  (what  violet  is  not  lovely  ?)  with  the  tints 
of  the  sky  and  the  sunset ;  the  delicate  campanula,  and  the  varieties 
of  composite  and  labiate  plants.  And  we  would  not  stop  our  painting 
with  the  flowers,  but  would  present  to  you  a  lovely  landscape,  taken  at 
the  hour  of  twilight,  within  a  narrow  valley,  the  vale  of  Chamouni,  a 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  75 

most  perfectly  rounded  basin  of  green  grass,  not  one  solitary  shrub  or 
tree  or  building,  only  a  velvety  green  basin,  dotted  all  about  with  trees 
and  white  houses ;  the  Arve  flowing  around  these,  bringing  the  color 
and  the  air  of  the  hills  ;  the  cows  winding  their  way  along,  each  and 
every  one  ringing  its  bell  incessantly  ;  a  little  higher  up  on  the  mountain 
side  a  circle  of  pines,  dark  and  green ;  then  streaks  of  snow  and  dark 
rocks  intermingled,  but  soon  an  entire  mass  of  snow  and  ice  ;  still  above, 
in  the  face  of  the  young  moon,  slender  as  she  ever  appears,  yet  giving 
promise  of  light,  the  crimson  clouds  heaped  up  after  the  manner  of  the 
mountains,  fading  away  into  the  grayish  blue  dome  of  heaven,  directly 
above  the  grassy  basin  below.  No  picture  is  complete  without  some 
sign  of  animal  life,  so  in  imagination  you  may  add  to  this  the  wandering 
trio  who  are  threading  their  way  through  the  romantic  vales  and  glens. 

We  had  walked  about  seven  miles  and  a  half  from  St.  Gervais  to 
Bellevue,  and  spent  the  night  at  a  lonely  wayside  inn.  Pursuing  our  way 
toward  Chamouni,  we  met  some  of  our  English  friends  who  had  con- 
tinued with  the  diligence  to  the  end  of  the  route,  and  were  now  retracing 
their  steps  to  visit  the  Glacier  des  Bossons  ;  so  we  walked  several  miles 
along  the  road,  through  the  fields  and  up  the  mountain  side  to  cross  this 
glacier,  which  is  in  full  view  of  Chamouni.  Alpenstocks  and  socks  are 
the  first  requisites  for  the  passage.  Then  the  question  was  solved  which 
we  had  propounded  to  ourselves  so  many  times,  as  to  why  the  Swiss 
women  were  always  knitting.  Everybody  who  visits  a  glacier  must  have 
a  pair  of  socks,  women  at  least,  and  men  must  have  nails  in  their  boots, 
and  everybody  is  expected  to  wear  out  the  socks  crossing  once,  so  the 
Swiss  women  must  knit  or  other  women  cannot  cross  glaciers. 

If  you  can  imagine  the  ocean  in  a  terrific  storm,  waves  mountain  high 
and  yawning  chasms  between,  suddenly  frozen,  then  you  have  some  idea 
of  a  glacier.  It  is  a  frozen  river  coursing  down  between  the  mountain 
peaks,  extending  in  some  cases  miles  before  it  becomes  a  stream  of  run- 


76  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

ning  water  merely.  It  is  no  easy  matter  to  climb  over  these  icy  waves, 
and  often  we  are  reminded  that  the  icy  fetters  are  broken  down  between 
these  waves  and  that  the  water  has  started  on  its  course  to  the  sea ;  so 
we  tread  more  carefully  these  peaks  above,  that  we  may  not  be  plunged 
into  the  waters  below. 

The  first  glacier  crossed,  we  climbed  the  precipitous  banks,  and  just  at 
the  edge  of  the  ice  gathered  the  blue  gentian  and  other  bright  Alpine 
flowers.  Men  are  not  alone  in  contradicting  themselves,  but  nature  too 
plays  strange  freaks.  We  spent  the  night  with  the  guide  de  chef,  Balmat, 
(the  same  in  name  and  occupation,  if  not  in  person,  as  the  one  to  whom 
Tyndall  so  often  alludes  in  his  journeyings  among  the  Alps.)  In  the 
morning  we  reached  Chamouni,  August  28th. 

Chamouni !  Champs  munies  —  fortified  places  ;  name  given  doubtless 
with  reference  to  the  natural  fortifications,  the  everlasting  hills  which 
crown  the  sides  of  the  valley,  two  miles  wide  and'  fifteen  miles  long, 
highest  of  which  is  Mont  Blanc.  To  obtain  a  view  of  the  face  of  this 
queen  of  mountains,  with  her  numerous  attendants  ranged  all  about  her, 
we  ascended  first  to  an  opposite  peak,  La  Flegere.  It  was  impossible  to 
go  up  the  steep  mountain  path  in  a  straight  line,  but  necessary  to  follow 
a  zigzag  road  which  made  the  way  many  times  as  long.  Having  ascended 
high  enough  to  be  in  the  clouds,  was  it  strange  that  thunder  burst  upon 
our  ears  ?  There  was  no  Swiss  cottage  to  which  we  might  retreat,  so, 
improvising  a  shelter  out  of  our  waterproofs,  we  stood  the  storm  as 
patiently  as  might  be.  The  thunders  rolled  about  us  and  the  lightnings 
flashed  below  us,  and  we  felt  that  we  had  gone  beyond  our  sphere.  The 
rain  did  not  entirely  cease,  and  we  began  to  fear  we  should  lose  our 
journey,  but  walking  upward  in  faith  nevertheless,  we  at  last  found  our- 
selves at  the  end  of  the  route  and  in  the  sunshine  above  the  clouds. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Chain  of  Mont  Blanc  as  seen  from  La  Flegere,  opposite.  2.  Source 
of  the  Arveiron  from  the  extremity  of  the  glacier  Mer  de  Glace.  3.  Chamouui,  at  the  foot 
of  Mont  Blanc.  4.  The  American  Girl  with  her  alpenstock. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC. 


77 


76 


UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC. 


77 


UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 


•"•:L:-\v\:0':i  JA 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  77 

What  a  position  for  mortals  !  Two  rainbows  spanning  the  clouds  through 
which  we  had  passed,  and  which  showed  us  occasionally  through  their 
rifts  the  vale  of  Chamouni,  and,  higher  still,  that  long  chain  of  mountains 
so  brilliant  with  the  sunshine  that  it  was  truly  golden,  and  suitable  for 
the  adorning  of  her  majesty,  the  White  Queen.  Time  was  fleeting 
and  the  scene  was  changing,  so  we  commenced  our  downward  course  at 
a  very  rapid  rate  and  continued  it  just  as  rapidly  for  the  space  of  three 
hours  ;  and  we  slept  well  the  following  night. 

On  the  third  day  in  Chamouni  we  visited  the  Mer  de  Glace.  To 
reach  this  so-called  sea  of  ice  from  Chamouni,  one  must  travel  about 
four  hours  up  the  mountain's  side,  around  and  around,  backwards  and 
forwards,  (most  people  ride  on  mule-back  or  are  carried  in  chairs,)  until 
the  summit  of  Mountain  Vert  is  reached  ;  then  begins  a  descent  among 
boulders  and  rocks  and  stones  and  pebbles  and  sand  —  it  seems  as 
though  the  world  had  turned  to  stone. 

One  can  see  all  sorts  of  bodies  of  water  on  and  within  this  Mer  de 
Glace  ;  there  are  straits  and  channels  innumerable ;  there  are  quiet  little 
lakes  standing  upon  its  surface  and  sleeping  within  its  bosom  ;  there  are 
cascades  and  waterfalls  down  in  the  blue  depths,  so  romantic  that  one 
involuntarily  looks  for  naiads  and  nymphs  with  flowing  tresses  ;  then 
there  are  torrents  and  whirlpools  that  make  the  beholder  shudder  and 
draw  back  with  affright. 

Standing  on  this  icy  sea,  we  recall  the  words  of  Tyndall :  —  "The 
great  agent  which  nature  employs  to  relieve  her  overladen  mountains  is 
the  glaciers.  At  its  origin  a  glacier  is  snow,  —  at  its  lower  extremity  it 
is  ice.  The  change  from  white  to  blue  consists  in  the  gradual  expulsion 
of  the  air  which  was  originally  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  the  fallen 
snow.  The  snow  which  falls  on  the  mountain  tops  is  dry,  and  the  first 
action  of  the  summer's  sun  is  to  raise  the  temperature  to  thirty-two 
degrees,  and  afterwards  to  melt  it,  The  water  thus  formed  percolates 


78  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

through  the  colder  mass  underneath  and  is  the  first  agency  in  expelling 
the  air  entangled  in  the  snow.  Although  the  sun  cannot  get  directly  at 
the  deeper  portions  of  the  snow,  by  liquifying  the  upper  layer  he  charges 
it  with  heat  and  makes  it  his  messenger  to  the  cold  subjacent  mass." 
And  Tyndall  tells  us  too  whence  come  these  water-courses  in  the  gla- 
ciers :• — "The  crevasses  are  produced  by  the  mechanical  strains  to  which 
the  glacier  is  subjected.  They  are  divided  into  marginal,  transverse,  and 
longitudinal  crevasses.  The  first  is  produced  by  the  oblique  strain  con- 
sequent on  the  quicker  motion  of  the  centre  ;  the  second,  by  the  passage 
of  the  glacier  over  the  summit  of  an  incline  ;  the  third,  by  pressure  from 
behind  and  resistance  in  front,  which  causes  the  mass  to  split  at  right 
angles  to  the  pressure."  The  same  author  says  :  —  "  The  glacier  has  the 
appearance  of  a  sea,  which,  after  it  had  been  tossed  by  a  storm,  had 
stiffened  into  rest.  The  ridges  upon  its  surface  accurately  resemble 
waves  in  shape,  and  this  appearance  is  caused  in  the  following  way  : 
Above  the  Montanvert,  (the  point  whence  we  descend  to  the  glacier,) 
opposite  the  Echelets,  the  glacier  in  passing  down  an  incline  is  rent  by 
deep  fissures,  between  each  two  of  which  a  ridge  of  ice  intervenes.  At 
first  the  edges  of  these  ridges  are  sharp  and  angular,  but  they  are  soon 
sculptured  off  by  the  action  of  the  sun.  The  bearing  of  the  Mer  de 
Glace  being  north  and  south,  the  sun  at  mid-day  shines  down  the  glacier 
or  very  obliquely  across  it,  and  the  fronts  of  the  ridges  which  look  down- 
ward remain  in  shidow  all  the  day,  while  the  backs  of  the  ridges  meet 
the  direct  stroke  of  the  solar  rays.  The  ridges  thus  acted  upon  have 
their  hindmost  angles  wasted  off  and  converted  into  slopes  which  repre- 
sent the  back  of  a  wave,  while  the  opposite  side  of  the  ridges,  which  are 
protected  from  the  sun,  preserve  their  steepness,  and  represent  the  front." 
We  could  not  realize  that  this  seemingly  solid  mass  was  all  moying  at 
the  rate  of  about  one  foot  in  twenty-four  hours,  the  centre  moving  a  little 
faster  than  the  sides,  the  latter  being  retarded  somewhat  by  contact  with 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  79 

the  banks ;  but  as  it  is  conclusively  demonstrated  by  Tyndall  on  Glaciers, 
we  are  obliged  to  accept  the  fact  as  truth. 

We  decided  not  to  cross  this  glacier,  so  two  of  the  party  sat  down 
upon  the  banks  and  waited  for  the  Teacher  to  run  out  upon  the  ice 
and  see  how  it  appeared.  At  first  it  was  quite  level  and  not  slippery ; 
after  going  a  little  distance  the  writer  came  in  contact  with  one  of  the 
much-talked-of  crevasses,  and,  full  of  curiosity,  looked  into  its  depths, 
where  were,  occasionally,  immense  rocks  brought  down  from  unknown 
heights.  Passing  quickly  along  beyond  the  point  where  the  crevasse 
ended,  she  turned  around  and  came  back  on  the  other  side  of  'the  cre- 
vasse, which  gradually  enlarged,  and  all  of  a  sudden  °.he  found  herself 
where  it  joined  with  another,  making  one  still  larger.  They  were 
too  wide  to  leap  across  for  fear  of  falling  into  their  icy  jaws,  so  she 
was  obliged  to  retrace  her  steps  and  go  back  to  the  shore  the  same  way, 
where  her  friends  waited  in  great  anxiety.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to 
look  upon  the  background  and  see  the  Aiguilles  (needles)  of  different 
names,  all  white  and  pointing  heavenward,  as  the  magnetic  needle  points 
to  the  North  Pole,  and  to  trace  the  course  of  the  three  branches  which 
form  this  main  glacier,  up  among  the  mountain  peaks.  Just  thirty  min- 
utes were  necessary  to  retrace  our  steps  to  Montanvert  by  the  steep 
winding  path  among  the  rocks,  and  we  stood  again  on  the  elevated 
pasture  prepared  to  return  to  Chamouni.  We  should  have  done  what 
most  people  do,  gone  entirely  across  the  Mer  de  Glace  and  come  down 
the  other  side,  had  not  the  guide-books  told  us  of  dangerous  paths  for 
little  feet  to  tread,  (and  large  ones  too,  for  that  matter.)  At  Montanvert 
a  small  party,  with  their  homes  upon  their  backs,  (for  what  is  home 
without  food  and  fire  ?)  were  starting  with  their  guides  for  Mont  Blanc, 
highest  peak  of  the  Alps,  (15,780  feet,)  but  having  no  anxiety  to  go 
higher  that  day,  we  returned,  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  to  the  interesting 
little  village  nestled  under  the  shadow. 


80  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

Bells  in  Chamouni  told  us  several  new  tales.  Once,  the  soft  tinkling 
of  scores  of  tongues  broke  our  morning  slumbers,  and  going  to  the 
window,  the  sight  was  a  novel  one  —  a  hundred  or  so  of  goats,  each  with 
its  musical  accompaniment,  having  left  their  milk  to  feed  travelers  from 
all  lands,  were  going  in  search  of  the  pastures  which  should  supply  them 
again.  Another  time,  joyous  bells  rang  out,  and  then  everybody  greeted 
some  returning  heroes  who  had  been  victorious  in  their  contest  with 
snow  and  rocks.  Imagine  with  what  regret  we  left  Chamouni,  singing 
all  the  time  the  sweet  Swiss  song : 

"Chamouni,  sweet  Chamouni, 
Oh,  the  vale  of  Chamouni ! " 

By  this  time  we  had  become  practiced  pedestrians,  and  Bradshaw  told 
us  that  the  most  interesting  way  of  reaching  Montigny  was  over  the 
picturesque  pass  of  the  Tete  Noire,  which  was  accessible  by  mules  and 
could  be  done  in  nine  hours.  But  mules  are  too  slow  and  too  obstinate, 
so  the  Three  set  out  on  foot,  and  had  gone  but  a  little  distance  before  the 
clouds  became  thick  and  overcharged  with  rain.  What  a  silver  lining 
that  cloud  had  we  did  not  at  first  discover.  We  shortened  our  analysis 
of  flowers  and  quickened  our  steps  to  find  a  shelter,  which  we  unexpect- 
edly, and  joyfully  too,  did  find  at  Argentiere,  four  miles  from  Chamouni. 
The  day  was  not  half  gone,  but  as  it  was  the  last  day  of  the  week,  we 
concluded  to  remain  there  over  the  Sabbath.  Had  it  not  been  for 
friendly  intercourse  with  congenial  hearts  across  the  sea,  it  would  indeed 
have  been  a  dismal  day.  The  clouds  settled  down  almost  upon  our 
heads,  and  the  mountain  peaks,  which  had  seemed  so  near  and  looked  so 
pure,  had  almost  withdrawn  themselves-from  the  panoramic  view.  It  was 
Switzerland  without  the  mountains,  and  the  charm  was  gone.  But  on 
Monday  morning,  the  first  day  of  Autumn,  our  eyes  opened  upon  a 
gorgeous  sight.  A  silver  lining  we  said  the  cloud  had,  but  we  thought 
then  it  was  a  golden  one.  One  bound  to  the  window,  and  no  sense 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  * 

of  propriety  or  decorum  could  restrain  the  bursts  of  enthusiasm  and  the 
clapping  of  hands.  Aladdin's  palace  never  rose  more  suddenly  than  the 
palaces  of  the  Alps  had  sprung  from  the  gloom.  Awestruck,  we  said 
with  Coleridge : 

"  Who  bade  the  sun 

Clothe  you  with  rainbows  ?    Who,  with  living  flowers 
Of  liveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet  ? 
God !  let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations, 
Answer !  and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God ! 
God  !  sing,  ye  meadow-streams,  with  gladsome  voice ! 
Ye  pine-groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds ! 
And  they  too  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of  snow. 
And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder,  God ! 
Thou  great  ambassador  from  earth  to  heaven, 
Great  hierarch  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God ! " 

Quickly  attiring  ourselves  lest  the  vision  should  fade,  we  went  hastily 
through  the  little  Alpine  village,  where  the  women  had  collected  around 
their  troughs  and  tubs  and  were  lost  in  gossip  and  the  labor  of  washing, 
out  into  the  fields  to  see  the  snow-clad  mountains  and  find  the  Glacier 
des  Bois,  the  source  of  the  river  we  had  followed  so  long  —  and  the 
delight  of  the  writer  must  have  been  somewhat  akin  to  that  of  Dr. 
Livingstone  when  he  thought  he  had  discovered  the  source  of  the  Nile. 
The  source  of  the  Arve  was  not  found,  but  it  was  its  twin,  the  Arveiron. 
Yes,  just  above  Chamouni  we  found  that  the  gay  little  river  was  blessed 
with  two  heads.  We  kept  them  both  in  sight  a  long  time,  and  finally 
found  one  of  them  hidden  under  the  rocks  of  ice  in  the  Glacier  d'Argen- 
tiere.  A  most  beautiful  sight  it  is  where  it  breaks  out  from  under  the 
icy  arch  and  goes  tumbling  along,  as  it  tumbles  all  the  way  till  it  meets 
the  blue  Rhone.  No  arch  of  triumph  is  carved  more  beautifully  or  more 
thickly  set  with  shining  crystals.  Transparent  blue  are  the  juttings 
of  rock,  and  weird  and  dark  the  caverns  whence  the  water  rushes  out. 
We  pluck  a  bouquet  from  the  midst  of  the  rocks  near  the  fountain  head, 
and  with  sorrow  we  part  from  the  waters  which  have  given  us  so  much 
ii 


82  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS. 

joy.     We  shall  doubtless  find  other  rivers  coming  down  from  these  hills 
of  snow,  but  we  shall  never  forget  the  Arve. 

Another  has  described  the  termination  of  this  glacier  as  "  An  enor- 
mous mass  of  ice  twenty  times  as  large  as  the  front  of  St.  Peter  ;  a  mag- 
nificent palace  cased  over  with  the  purest  crystal;  a  majestic  temple, 
ornamented  with  a  portico  ;  columns  of  several  shapes  and  colors  ;  it  has 
the  appearance  of  a  fortress  flanked  with  towers  and  bastions  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  at  the  bottom  is  a  grotto  terminating  in  a  dome  of  bold 
construction.  The  whole  is  so  artistically  splendid,  so  completely  pic- 
turesque, so  great  and  beautiful  beyond  imagination  that  the  art  of  man 
can  hardly  produce  a  building  so  grand  in  its  construction  or  so  varied  in 
its  ornaments."  Truly  there  is  often  much  in  a  name,  as  was  proved  in 
the  present  instance.  Among  the  Latin  nouns  declined  in  childhood 
was  Argentum,  meaning  silver,  so  like  unto  Argentiere,  where  was  dis- 
closed the  cloud's  silver  lining  in  the  silver  dome  of  ice  and  the  silvery 
waters  of  the  Arveiron,  rushing  forth  as  if  glad  to  meet  the  sunlight,  of 
which  the  silvery  tones  of  memory  will  keep  our  recollections  bright. 


PASS  TETE  NOIRE  TO  MARTIGNY.— CASTLE  OF 
CHILLON.  —  LACUSTRINE  CITIES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

UR  meanderings  in  this  mountainous  land  may  seem  some- 
what unaccountable.  From  Geneva  on  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  Lake  Geneva,  we  had  passed  into  France  when 
at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Blanc,  and  now  on  our  way  to  Martigny, 
we  again  crossed  the  boundary  between  these  countries,  but 
at  what  point  we  know  not.  It  was  enough  that  three  American 
girls  walked  sixteen  miles  that  day  and  came  down  at  the  foot  of 
the  Pass  Tete  Noire,  rather  late  in  the  day  and  quite  footsore. 
Morning  showed  us  what  we  could  not  see  at  that  time,  the  place 
where  the  monks  find  a  home  when  they  have  passed  many  less 
years  than  threescore  and  ten,  on  the  Great  St.  Bernard  saving 
the  lives  of  men,  for  they  can  spend  but  a  few  years  so  high  above  the 
world,  and  they  come  down  to  end  their  days  in  the  valleys  below.  This 
is  the  place  where  many  start  for  the  Great  St.  Bernard,  which  is  twenty- 
two  miles  away.  We  should  have  been  glad  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
Charlemagne,  Fred.  Barbarossa  and  Napoleon  the  Great,  but  we  con- 
cluded to  take  more  peaceful  ones.  Passing  over  the  Dranse  on  a  bridge 
so  old  that  we  imagined  the  armies  of  Charlemagne  keeping  watch  over 
it,  we  walked  a  little  distance  in  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  then  for 
variety,  took  the  cars  to  Bouveret  where  we  cut  off  in  a  boat  the  south- 


84  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

eastern  part  of  Lake  Geneva  sailing  across  the  waters  of  the  Rhone 
(these  waters  are  aristocratic  and  do  not  wish  to  mingle  with  common 
waters,)  to  the  Castle  of  Chillon  at  Villeneuve.  The  Church  of  Calvin 
and  the  Castle  of  Chillon  confront  each  other  at  the  extremes  of  Lake 
Leman  (Geneva). 

Here  we  must  pause,  for  the  poet  has  pointed  out  the  way.  Going 
down  into  the  depths  of  the  castle  and  standing  by  the  column  to  which 
the  prisoner  of  Chillon  was  chained  and  around  which  he  had  walked 
till  he  wore  down  the  earth,  we  plainly  heard  him  say : 

"  My  hair  is  gray  but  not  with  years, 
Nor  grew  it  white  in  a  single  night, 
As  men's  have  grown  from  sudden  fears ; 
My  limbg  are  bowed  though  not  with  toil, 
But  rusted  with  a  vile  repose, 
For  they  ha\e  been  a  dungeon's  spoil." 

We  seemed  to  hear  him  give  his  own  history  in  the  words  of  Byron  : 

"  We  were  seven  who  now  are  one. 
Six  in  youth  and  one  in  age, 
Finished  as  they  had  begun. 
Proud  of  Persecution's  rage, 
One  in  fire  and  two  in  the  field," 
Their  belief  with  blood  hath  sealed  ; 
Three  were  in  a  dungeon  cast, 
Of  whom  this  wreck  is  left  the  last." 

They  tell  us  that  when  at  last  Bonnevard  was  set  free  he  ran  back  to 
his  column  and  begged  to  be  left  there  in  his  second  home,  and  Byron 
makes  him  say, 

"I  regained  my  freedom  with  a  sigh." 

Twelve  miles  we  walked  that  day  by  the  side  of  the  bluest  waters 
and  under  the  bluest  sky  that  we  imagine  earth  affords.  We  had  pur- 
chased pictures  at  Geneva  with  which  to  confront  the  artist,  and  defy 
him  to  take  us  where  we  could  find  such  colors  except  in  the  hues  of  the 
rainbow  or  upon  the  artist's  brush  ;  but  we  nevermore  say  that  the  views 
of  Swiss  skies  and  Swiss  lakes  are  too  highly  colored.  Concluding  to 
stop  for  the  night,  although  the  sun  was  high  in  the  sky,  we  left  our  lake 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  85 

road  and  entered  a  village  old  and  curious,  and  walked  through  its  one 
street  in  search  of  hospice,  or  anberge,  or  hotel,  whichever  you  wish  to 
call  it,  but  we  discovered  none,  and  so  continued  on  our  way.  When  we 
reached  Lausanne  at  the  very  northern  point  of  Lake  Geneva,  we  hastily 
sought  the  baggage  room  and  asked  for  stray  sachels  which  had  preceded 
their  owners  by  ten  days.  Nothing  to  show  for  them,  how  would  our 
sachels  be  known  from  those  of  all  the  rest  of  the  traveling  world? 
But  taking  us  back  through  several  rooms  they  hauled  up  the  identical 
sachels  and  straps  which  had  been  so  bold  at  the  beginning  of  the  jour- 
ney and  were  still  just  as  fearless  though  they  had  traveled  alone.  We 
had  sent  them  from  Geneva  and  were  glad  to  meet  them  once  more. 

The  second  week  in  September  the  beautiful  lake  of  Geneva  was  left 
behind  to  traverse  the  shores  of  a  neighboring  lake,  where  a  short  time 
ago  Lacustrine  cities  were  exhumed,  and  the  mode  of  living  of  an  early 
and  a  very  different  race  of  men  was  made  plain  by  articles  suddenly 
brought  to  light  which  had  been  hid  for  thousands  of  years.  At  Yver- 
don,  one  extremity  of  Lake  Neuchatel,  cars  were  exchanged  for  our  old 
mode  of  advancement  in  this  land  of  lakes  and  mountains  —  pedestrian- 
ism.  Sky  was  bright  and  lake  was  blue,  but,  relics  of  the  past,  antiqui- 
ties, our  eyes  sought  everywhere.  Order  and  quiet  reigned,  and  we 
walked  the  streets  scarcely  seeing  sign  of  life  or  meeting  living  being ; 
but  feeling  convinced,  nevertheless,  that  other  implements  of  husbandry 
had  been  used  in  these  fields,  and  that  other  races  of  men  had  occupied 
these  houses  than  the  ones  made  familiar  by  studying  the  records  so 
lately  found  within  the  bosom  of  mother  earth.  We  thought  to  find 
something  at  Concise,  but  were  directed  to  a  chateau  some  miles  away, 
where  it  was  said  the  exhumed  articles  were  kept  in  store  for  the  eye  of 
the  curious  to  see.  A  romantic  walk  through  private  fields  bordered  with 
shrubbery  and  watered  with  fountains,  brought  us  to  the  walls  of  a  castle 
which  looked  as  if  built  to  protect,  but  which  we  scarcely  dared  to  enter 


86  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS. 

for  fear  they  were  built  also  to  incarcerate  the  unwary.  The  bell  at  the 
gate  house  was  rung,  the  servant  withdrew  the  bolts,  and  with  a  look  of 
curiosity  invited  the  "  Three "  to  enter.  Ushered  into  the  court  we 
made  known  our  errand,  and  were  informed  that  the  lord  of  this  manor 
had  deceased,  and  that  his  collections  were  scattered  among  the  museums 
of  the  land,  some  of  them  to  be  found  at  Neuchatel,  whither  we  were 
journeying.  Begging  pardon  for  trespassing  upon  the  quiet  of  this  very 
quiet  house,  we  departed,  feeling  somewhat  uncertain  whether  we  were 
pursuing  the  ghosts  of  the  past  ages,  or  whether  the  pursuit  was  on  the 
other  side  ;  but  Neuchatel  reached,  we  were  convinced  of  our  own  sanity 
and  also  of  the  truthfulness  of  newspaper  reporters  and  of  letter  writers 
for  magazines,  for  our  own  eyes  looked  upon  the  instruments  of  warfare, 
many  in  number  but  very  similar  ;  implements  of  husbandry,  evidently 
not  much  in  vogue  during  that  hard  age,  and  cooking  utensils  fewer  still, 
as  they  probably  took  their  food  in  the  natural  state.  But  we  refer  our 
friends  to  the  libraries  of  those  who  keep  pace  with  the  discoveries  of 
the  times,  where  they  will  find  accurate  descriptions  of  the  Lacustrine 
cities  of  Switzerland. 


THE  AAR  AND  THE  JUNGFRAU. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

URSUING  our  route  across  the  country  to  Berne,  in 
that  city  of  bears  we  first  made  the  acquaintance  of  an- 
other dancing,  sparkling  stream,  along  whose  banks  we 
have  since  wended  our  way  for  many  a  day,  and  whose  waters 
we  have  traced  high  up  among  their  mountain  beds.  Berne, 
the  capital  of  Switzerland,  stands  upon  a  rocky  citadel  and 
looks  down  upon  the  Aar  surrounding  it  on  three  sides,  but  at  a  great 
distance  below  much  of  it.  True  to  the  teachings  of  William  Tell,  (we 
shall  not  try  to  believe  that  such  a  man  never  lived,)  Switzerland  is  still 
a  republic,  and  this  city  is  the  seat  of  the  Federal  Council,  and  all  its 
operations  are  carried  on  in  three  different  languages,  French,  German 
and  Italian  ;  indeed  it  was  difficult  to  tell  in  which  tongue  one  would  be 
answered  if  he  addressed  a  person  in  the  street.  German,  however,  had 
become  perhaps  by  this  time  the  language  most  generally  spoken.  It 
takes  all  sorts  of  people  to  make  a  world,  and  it  takes  all  sorts  of  cities 
too,  and  Berne  is  a  sort  by  itself.  Some  of  the  streets  are  arcaded,  and 
one  walks  a  long-distance  as  if  in  a  continuous  line  of  stores.  Through 
the  centre  of  many  of  the  streets  is  a  stone  channel  in  which  the  water 
rushes  swiftly  to  the  Aar.  Then  such  curious  fountains  are  everywhere 
to  be  seen,  many  of  them  representing  the  bear  as  performing  some 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  General  view  of  the  city  of  Berne  surrounded  by  the  river  Aar.    2.  The 
Ogre  Fountain.    3.  Clock  Tower. 


&8  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

wonderful  feat.  In  one,  called  the  Ogre,  monster  Bruin  is  satisfying  his 
appetite  by  destroying  innocent  children,  of  whom  he  holds  great 
numbers  within  his  pockets.  On  one  of  the  clock  towers  a  procession 
of  bears  walk  around  and  strike  the  hour  of  the  day.  In  all  the  Swiss 
carvings  displayed  for  sale  the  bear  acts  a  prominent  part,  plays  the 
fiddle,  carries  match-safes  on  his  back  larger  than  himself,  sits  at  table, 
etc.,  etc.  Real  live  bears,  too,  climb  a  pole  within  their  pit,  and  watch 
for  the  morsels  which  are  thrown  to  them,  or  for  the  unwary  who  occa- 
sionally drop  themselves  into  their  paws.  In  short,  everything  impresses 
upon  the  mind  that  the  name  Berne  is  derived  from  some  word  meaning 
bear,  for  what  reason  we  cannot  tell  exactly,  although  we  have  heard 
many  solutions  of  the  matter. 

When  we  leave  the  society  of  the  bears  and  take  a  somewhat  elevated 
position,  we  are  fascinated  with  the  view  which  rises  before  us.  The 
silver  horns  rise  up  in  plenty  and  the  sun  gilds  them  till  they  are  like 
unto  diamonds  of  the  purest  lustre — Schreckhorn,  and  Faulhorn,  and 
Wetterhorn,  and  Silberhorn — and  over  all  the  grand  array  presides  the 
Jungfrau,  (young  woman,)  whose  white  veil  sparkles  in  the  setting  sun 
as  if  adorned  for  the  bridal  feast,  but  who  ever  remains  cold  to  the 
addresses  of  adoring  ones. 

The  Aar  and  the  Jungfrau  are  by  vno  means  all  that  are  interesting  in 
a  visit  to  this  city,  but  we  left  them  all  to  follow  these  two  —  follow  them 
by  land  and  by  water,  over  mountains  and  through  valleys. 

At  Interlaken  we  took  up  the  march  anew,  and  facing  the  Jungfrau, 
ended  a  good  week  with  a  most  delightful  walk  up  into  the  one  street 
of  Lauterbrunnen.  What  a  glorious  place  to  spend  the  Sabbath  ! 
Rightly  named  —  nothing  but  fountains ;  for  within  reach  of  the  eye  ten 
waterfalls  come  leaping,  bounding,  pouring  down  the  mountain  side, 

ILLUSTKATIOMS. — 1.  Lauterbrunnen,  with  Jungfrau  in  the  distance  and  Staubach  Fall  at  the 
right.    2.  Hotel  at  Handeck,  on  the  Grimsel  Pass.    8.  Hotel  at  the  summit  of  Furca  Pass. 


.   '          \ 


ACROSS  THE  ATLANTIC:.  89 

among  the  number  the  celebrated  Staubach  Fall,  one  thousand  feet  high, 
which  the  poet  says  is  like  the  tail  of  the  pale  horse  on  which  Death 
rides.  So  the  waters  pour  constantly  into  this  valley,  which  has  not  a 
particle  of  flat  surface  except  the  river  Aar  at  its  base,  and  the  Swiss 
cottages  deck  the  hillsides  everywhere,  while  the  Young  Maiden  looks 
ever  down  upon  the  scene,  adding  life  and  contrast  by  her  presence. 

High  up  on  the  right  of  this  valley,  so  blessed  with  flowing  fountains, 
is  Murren,  the  highest  village  in  Switzerland,  so  of  course  we  felt  chal- 
lenged to  extend  our  walk  up  there,  and  after  a  climb  of  three  hours 
where  even  mules  do  not  go,  we  met  on  our  return  lines  of  little  boys 
playing  the  part  of  beasts  of  burden,  and  we  wonder  no  more  that  they 
are  called  simple  Swiss,  since  they  must  necessarily  pay  more  attention 
to  their  heels  than  their  heads. 

On  the  following  day  we  pursued  our  course  toward  the  Jungfrau, 
taking  the  other  side  view  of  the  same  pleasant  valley,  and  it  lost  nothing 
by  this  examination  upon  all  sides,  the  test  of  true  worth.  It  sparkled 
with  new  brilliancy  when,  after  a  half-day's  walk,  we  stopped  for  the  last 
time  to  look  over  the  scene  and  impress  it  indelibly  upon  our  minds  to 
carry  across  the  ocean  the  next  year. 

A  deep,  deep  gorge  lay  between  us  and  the  glorious  Jungfrau,  whose 
white  peaks  were  towering  before*  us.  A  sound  which  seemed  familiar 
broke  upon  the  ear,  and  was  attributed  to  a  train  of  cars  in  the  distance ; 
but  soon  it  came  again,  and  this  time  near  enough  to  see  the  smoke,  for 
right  before  our  eyes  aud  thundering  in  our  ears  down  the  mountain  side 
rolled  the  terrible  avalanche.  It  was  a  glorious  sight.  No  torrent  ever 
rolled  more  majestically  down,  down  to  the  depths.  It  came  like  a  large 
body  of  water  till  it  reached  the  top  of  the  precipice,  then  all  of  a  sudden 
it  became  a  light,  glorious  cloud,  which  melted  gradually  away,  and  we 
felt  that  we  had  seen  a  vision.  We  slept  in  front  of  the  same  cold 
mountain,  and  our  dreams  were  haunted  by  avalanches,  and  they  were 

12 


go  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

not  all  dreams  either.  In  the  morning  the  snow  came  down  upon  uS, 
and  we  wondered  if  winter  had  come  to  cut  short  our  delightful  wander- 
ings. But  we  drew  our  water-proofs  around  us  and  ran  down  the 
mountain  sides,  (for  we  could  not  walk,  they  were  so  steep,)  and  after 
three  or  four  hours  we  found  it  was  not  winter,  only  a  storm  of  rain,  and 
we  went  to  our  rooms  in  the  valley  of  Grindelwald  to  bide  the  return 
of  the  sun.  Old  Sol  did  not  withdraw  his  presence  long,  for  early  the 
next  morning  he  was  inviting  his  three  friends  out  to  visit  the  glaciers 
in  the  vicinity  of  Grindelwald. 

It  is  a  very  up-and-down  life  this  traveling  in  Switzerland.  Four 
hours  we  had  been  approaching  Grindelwald,  all  the  time  in  view  of  her 
cottages ;  now  again  we  were  six  hours  leaving  her  with  her  glaciers  in 
the  valley  ;  and  again,  with  fingers  chilled  with  cold,  and  getting  some- 
what anxious  lest  the  bare  mountain  peaks  must  be  our  beds,  we  greeted 
with  joy  the  noble  St.  Bernard  dog  which  came  out  to  welcome  us  to  the 
chalet  at  the  top  of  the  Great  Scheidig. 

In  the  valley  again,  the  Vale  of  Meyringen,  an  old  friend  appeared,  the 
Aar,  easily  recognized,  although  somewhat  diminished  in  size,  and  we 
walked  by  the  side  of  this  recovered  friend  until  its  tones  were  familiar 
as  those  of  childhood,  and  we  were  lonely  when  they  were  heard  no 
more. 

For  hours  we  passed  on  over  a  level  but  not  straight  road,  just  as  good 
as  labor  can  make  it,  winding  around  at  the  base  of  the  mountains, 
following  the  windings  of  the  Aar,  until  we  almost  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  a  mountain  pass  was  very  different  from  what  our  inexperienced 
minds  had  pictured  it.  But  wait !  We  have  spoken  of  fearing  that 
winter  had  come,  but  with  the  fervent  sun  pouring  down  upon  our  heads 
we  came  to  a  very  different  conclusion.  At  two  o'clock,  however,  it  was 
sundown,  and  we  enjoyed  the  delightful  long  twilight  hours.  As  we 
climbed,  climbed,  climbed,  we  could  but  say,  How  like  to  the  journey 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  9 1 

of  life !  Away  back  in  the  distance  were  the  beautiful  days  of  youth, 
rugged  and  uneven,  to  be  sure,  but  purple  with  the  haze  of  time  and 
gilded  with  the  brush  of  memory.  Around  about  us  was  middle  life, 
struggle  and  labor  and  work  and  climb,  precipices  to  avoid  and  heights 
to  gain  ;  but  far  ahead  was  the  sunshine,  and  perhaps  we  should  get  into 
it  at  the  last.  We  were  supported  by  this  hope  until  the  day's  journey 
was  finished,  and  we  found  a  resting-place  for  the  Sabbath,  which  was 
close  at  hand. 

The  Sabbath  in  Switzerland  is  a  very  different  matter  from  what  it  is 
in  some  other  countries.  The  little  white  church  stood  in  the  midst 
of  the  cottages,  all  huddled  so  close  together  that  they  reminded  one 
of  frightened  sheep  crowding  around  the  shepherd  for  protection.  At 
the  proper  hour  the  villagers  came  together,  the  women  all  wearing  red 
handkerchiefs  over  the  head,  (except  three  unruly  spirits  whom  fashion 
had  led  astray  and  placed  the  jaunty  hat  upon  the  young  hair,)  large 
woolen  aprons,  and  a  handkerchief  tied  demurely  across  the  shoulders, 
the  hymn-book  held  with  both  hands  in  the  self-same  position,  completed 
the  dress.  Excuse  a  description  of  the  elaborate  attire  of  the  other  sex. 
Invited  to  occupy  the  one  pew  in  the  church  by  the  old  minister,  who 
had  filled  its  pulpit  for  thirty  years,  we  listened  to  a  good  Dutch  sermon 
on  the  very  appropriate  subject  of  Freedom.  The  services  were  con- 
ducted with  the  utmost  decorum,  and  everybody  seemed  to  feel  the  force 
of  the  truths  presented  and  to  live  accordingly.  This  was  the  Swiss  way 
of  observing  the  Sabbath  in  the  little  village  of  Guttannen. 

Another  whole  day's  journey  to  the  highest  point  in  the  route,  past  the 
Falls  of  the  Aar  to  the  Dead  Sea.  We  were  truly  and  literally  in  the 
region  of  the  clouds,  and  thought  the  world  had  turned  to  stone.  Oh, 
what  bleakness  and  desolation  —  not  a  tree  or  even  shrub  growing  !  But 
there  was  beauty  there,  and  some  flowers  adorned  even  these  rocks. 
We  are  told  of  the  blue-bells  of  Scotland,  but  we  can  tell  from  experience 


92  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

of  the  blue-bells  of  Switzerland ;  about  every  inch  of  ground  bears  some 
species  of  the  nodding  campanula.  Here,  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks, 
in  close  pfoximity  to  snow,  and  provided  by  nature  with  a  covering 
of  down,  they  hang  their  heads,  and  ring  their  bells,  and  delight  the 
weary  wanderer.  Then  the  stones  and  rocks  were  highly  adorned  with 
moss  and  lichens,  so  that  the  eye  seemed  to  look  upon  a  carpeted  floor, 
whose  groundwork  was  drab,  but  the  figures  always  varying,  always 
bright.  But  there  was  a  little  distance  that  the  fog  was  too  thick,  the 
snow  too  cold,  the  water  too  deep,  and  the  way  too  uncertain,  to  think 
much  about  flowers,  if  they  were  to  be  seen. 

As  we  stood  by  the  side  of  the  Dead  Sea  up  there,  we  were  reminded 
that  we  might  need  a  pillar  of  fire  to  guide  us  out  of  the  cloud,  for  so 
dense  a  fog  had  suddenly  enveloped  us  that  we  could  not  see  our  way 
but  went  blindly  forward  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  direction  in  which  we 
had  been  walking,  when  we  stopped  upon  the  border  of  other  waters 
rolling  sluggishly  along  as  if  uncertain  what  course  to  take,  stretched  out 
and  covering  a  wide  expanse  of  rock  and  stone.  There  was  not  much 
time  to  deliberate,  so  we  stepped  into  the  floods,  but  they  did  not  sepa- 
rate, and  we  walked  through  the  head  waters  of  we  know  not  what 
stream  or  where  it  finds  its  outlet,  whether  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea  or 
in  the  Northern  Ocean,  or  far  to  the  East  or  in  the  West.  On  the  other 
side  we  were  no  better  off,  but  two  remained  standing  on  a  high  point  of 
rock,  and  the  third  went  off  as  a  sort  of  scout  calling  to  each  other  out 
of  the  mists.  The  one  returned  saying  she  had  made  a  discovery  which 
perhaps  might  be  of  advantage  to  us  — a  tall  pole  rising  from  a  rock  and 
a  short  distance  away  a  similar  one.  So  we  went  from  pole  to  pole,  and 
if  we  had  gone  in  the  opposite  direction  we  should  have  come  out  at  the 
Haspice  of  the  Grimsel,  where  we  could  have  spent  the  night  and  seen 
the  sun  rise  high  up  among  the  clouds ;  but  we  came  out  of  the  cloud, 
which  was  our  pressing  desire  just  then,  and  as  we  descended  to  the  vil- 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  93 

lage  below  we  frequently  looked  back  at  the  cloud  above  and  rejoiced 
that  the  three  had  persevered  and  came  down  victorious,  having  been 
seven  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Two  armies  once  upon 
a  time  went  up  there  to  fight,  and  French  and  Austrian  blood  rolled 
down  into  the  valleys  below.  Strange  that  they  should  not  forget  their 
feuds  when  they  were  so  near  to  heaven. 

Again  we  descended  in  zigzag  course  for  about  three  hours  and  finally, 
near  a  place  of  rest  as  we  supposed,  we  dropped  upon  the  grass  and 
waited  awhile.  After  some  enquiry  for  a  hotel,  we  found  this  was  a 
village  where  travelers  do  not  often  come  and  we  were  almost  as  much  of 
a  curiosity  as  if  we  had  dropped  out  of  the  cloud,  which  was  not  far  from 
the  case.  One  woman  was  found  who  could  speak  French,  who,  with 
her  four  children,  accompanied  us  a  little  distance  and  pointed  out  an  inn 
at  Oberwald,  four  miles  away.  Judging  from  data  and  our  own  bodily 
impressions,  we  had  walked  twenty-five  miles  that  day.  The  next  morn- 
ing a  few  miles  brought  us  to  the  Rhone  Glacier.  Tyndall  looked  down 
from  the  Mayenwand  upon  the  Rhone  Glacier  and  writes  :  "  I  hardly 
know  a  finer  of  its  kind  in  the  Alps.  Forcing  itself  through  the  narrow 
gorge  which  holds  the  ice  cascade  in  its  jaws  and  where  it  is  greatly 
riven  and  dislocated,  it  spreads  out  in  the  valley  below  in  such  a  manner 
as  clearly  to  reveal  to  the  mind's  eye  the  nature  of  the  forces  to  which  it 
is  subjected.  Longfellow's  figure  is  quite  correct ;  the  glacier  resembles 
a  vast  gauntlet  of  which  the  gorge  represents  the  wrist ;  while  the  lower 
glacier,  cleft  by  its  fissures  into  finger-like  ridges,  is  typified  by  the 
hand." 

"  It  is  difficult  to  convey  any  just  impression  of  the  scene  from  the 
summit  of  the  Finsteraarhorn.  The  various  shapes  of  the  mountains, 
some  grand,  some  beautiful,  bathed  in  yellow  sunshine,  or  lying  black 
and  riven  under  the  forms  of  impervious  cumuli ;  the  pure  white  peaks, 
cornices,  bosses  and  amphitheatres  ;  the  blue  ice  rifts,  the  stratified  snow- 


94  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

precipices,  the  glaciers  issuing  from  the  hollows  of  the  eternal  hills  and 
stretching  like  frozen  serpents  through  the  sinuous  valleys ;  the  lower 
cloud-field  —  itself  an  empire  of  vaporous  hills  —  shining  with  dazzling 
whiteness,  while  here  and  there  grim  summits,  brown  by  nature  and 
black  by  contrast,  pierce  through  it  like  volcanic  islands  through  a  shin- 
ing sea  ;  —  Finsteraarhorn  monarch  of  the  Bernese  Alps." 

Why  should  the  struggle  between  the  blue  (Rhone)  and  the  grey 
(Arve)  be  so  long  and  so  fierce  when  their  source  is  similar  and  their  end 
the  same  ?  It  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  the  difference  in  their  course 
and  the  impressions  received  from  different  surroundings.  As  we  walked 
with  one  to  the  very  beginning,  saw  it  issue  from  the  rocks  and  take 
their  color  as  well  as  substance  along  with  it  through  all  its  ways  and 
windings,  so  now  have  we  traced  the  other  to  the  point  where  it  seems  to 
come  from  the  blue  above,  and  to  take  the  sky  in  its  onward  route, 
(although  congealed  in  its  first  attempts).  The  Glacier  du  Rhone  at  its 
base  spreads  over  a  large  extent  of  surface,  and  the  waters  come,  not 
rushing  and  pouring  from  one  spot,  taking  along  everything  that  coires 
in  the  way,  but  as  if  there  was  abundance  of  time  and  abundance  of 
room,  slowly  and  surely  entering  upon  the  accomplishment  of  their  task. 
The  Furca  Pass  winds  backwards  and  forwards  on  the  mountain  several 
times  taking  the  traveler  to  the  side  of  the  glacier  where  he  can  scarce 
make  up  his  mind  to  continue  his  journey,  but  stands  lost  in  wonder  and 
admiration,  then  away  a  long  distance  only  to  return  and  behold  a  more 
sublime  and  wonderful  spectacle  in  the  frozen  peaks  and  icy  chasms 
extending  almost  perpendicularly.  But  even  the  Rhone  Glacier  must  be 
left.  We  toil  on  up  the  steep  and  reach  the  Haspice  at  the  summit  of 
the  Furca  Pass  where  we  take  our  lunch  eight  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea  and  prepare  to  go  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Reuss. 
The  Three  were  not  united  this  time  for  one  of  the  number  considered 
it  sufficient  exercise  to  have  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  Furca  Pass ; 


ACROSS  THE  ATLANfid.  t)$ 

so  the  two  left  their  companion  to  proceed  slowly  on  their  way  and  make 
observations  in  that  elevated  region,  until  the  diligence  starting  two 
hours  later  should  overtake  them  and  carry  them  down  into  the  valley. 
But  things  are  wonderfully  uncertain  even  at  this  high  state  of  attain- 
ment. 

The  morning's  walk  had  been  in  pure,  unclouded  sunshine,  but,  the 
height  attained  and  the  descent  but  just  commenced,  the  clouds  rolled 
up  from  below,  enveloping  all  things  in  their  dusky  folds,  leaving  but  a 
few  yards  before  the  travelers  plain  to  be  seen  and  easy  to  be  followed. 
So,  for  a  time,  they  walked  in  clouds,  —  no,  ran,  for  the  road  invited  brisk 
steps,  and  as  the  entire  view  was  obstructed  and  the  flowers  were  hid  by 
their  vapory  covering,  there  was  nothing  to  detain  or  hold  them  back. 
As  a  consequence,  the  diligence  lost  two  passengers  that  day,  for  the  end 
of  the  day's  journey  was  nearly  reached  when  night  and  the  diligence 
together  overtook  them,  and  Andermatt,  which  ends  the  best  part  of 
the  St.  Gothard  Pass,  was  reached  and  the  St.  Gothard  Hotel  was  made 
a  resting  place  for  the  night  in  the  valley  of  the  Reuss. 

Many  of  the  valleys  in  our  native  land  are  beautiful  —  hardly  to  be 
surpassed  in  that  respect,  —  and  the  mind  of  the  writer  often  reverts  to 
the  central  one  of  the  Empire  State  where  the  Onondaga  flows  on  to 
the  lake  past  scenes  made  familiar  by  daily  walks  during  a  score  of  years, 
imagining  familiar  hilltops  overlooking  the  valley,  familiar  dwelling  places 
where  the  homes  and  hearts  are  sure  to  be  open  when  the  wanderer 
returns,  and  familiar  and  loved  faces  so  many  that  we  would  not  attempt 
to  number  them.  Another  valley  —  my  native  valley  —  no  lovelier  one 
will  ever  be  found,  for  there  the  sunshine  of  happiness  gilded  the  days  of 
youth,  and  although  snowy  peaks  interposed  their  cold  heads,  rugged 
mountain  paths  came  into  the  march  of  middle  life  and  yawning  chasms 
suddenly  broke  the  path,  yet  away  in  the  distant  future  the  sun  is  still 
shining  and  the  valley  is  beautiful  —  but  not  the  valley  of  the  Onondaga 


g6  tfNtTEi)   STATES   GIRLS. 

or  the  valley  of  the  Tioughnioga,  but  the  valley  of  the  Reuss  was  the 
subject.     Pardon  the  digression. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Andermatt,  somebody  seems  to  have  thought  that 
his  Satanic  majesty  has  held  sway  at  some  past  time,  or  perhaps  does  at 
present,  for  the  bridge  bears  the  name  of  Teufelsbrucke  (Devil's  Bridge). 
Once  within  that  region  we  were  led  to  doubt  whether  it  was  in  the  past 
that  this  dominion  was  acquired  when  the  rocks  were  hurled  in  the  wild- 
est confusion  and  the  stream  poured  madly  through  the  narrow  rifts, 
or  whether  it  was  even  then  that  the  contest  was  going  on,  for  the  clouds 
rolled  up  and  over  and  around  the  spot,  as  if  some  of  the  scenes  in 
"  Paradise  Lost "  were  being  re-enacted  ;  the  wind  almost  lifted  the  gar- 
ments off  us,  and  we  scarcely  dared  advance  for  fear  of  meeting  the  con- 
tending hosts.  This  was  the  wildest  of  all  spots  yet  seen. 


THE  HOME  OF  TELL. 


CHAPTER  X. 

GAIN  the  windings  of  the  river  were  seen,  as  several  of  the 
rivers  of  Switzerland  have  been,  and  by  a  gradual  descent 
in  the  midst  of  the  same  delightful  scenery,  we  came  down 
out  of  the  mountains  where  for  two  months  the  sunshine 
had  been  constantly  on  our  pathway,  and  where  we  loved 
to  linger  still,  but  dared  not  lest  the  cold  winds  of  autumn 
should  drive  away  the  pleasant  impressions  already  received.  In  the 
loveliest  days  of  the  year,  the  hazy,  musing,  dreamy  days  of  Indian  sum- 
mer, (for  Indian  summer  is  whenever  these  days  come,)  we  entered  the 
land  so  famous  in  song  and  story  —  the  land  of  William  Tell.  William 
Tell,  the  hero  of  Switzerland,  he  who  occupies  the  first  place  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen,  and  who  is  still  honored  by  every  token  of 
remembrance  although  centuries  have  passed  since  he  gave  to  Liberty 
such  a  firm  foothold  in  these  lakes  and  mountains.  During  all  these 
centuries, 

"  True  as  the  Alp  to  its  own  native  flowers, 
True  as  the  torrent  to  its  rocky  bed, 
Or  clouds  and  winds  to  their  appointed  track, 
The  Switzer  cleaves  to  his  accustomed  freedom, 
Holds  fast  the  rights  and  laws  his  father  left  him, 
And  spurns  the  tyrant's  innovating  sway." 

Into  Altorf,  a  curious  little  Swiss  town  near  the  birthplace  of  Tell, 
where  the  houses  were  huddled  close  together  after  the  fashion  of  the 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Statue  of  Tell  at. Altorf.    2.  The  Vow  of  the  Rutli.    3.  Tell's  Chapel. 
13 


9  UNITED  STATES 

country,  all  standing  right  upon  the  street  paved  with  uneven  pointed 
stones,  (they  seemed,)  so  that  it  was  doing  penance  to  walk  upon  them, 
the  trio  entered  with  eyes  extended  to  catch  some  sign  of  the  hero  of 
past  ages ;  they  peered  at  all  the  posts  and  glanced  at  the  stones,  looked 
enquiringly  at  the  steeples  and  reid  the  notices  and  guide-boards  till  in 
the  earnestness  of  the  search  they  became  the  centre  of  attraction,  and 
were  surrounded  by  numbers  seemingly  fearful  lest  their  town  was  to  be 
carried  off  bodily  by  the  intruders  ;  children  and  dogs  barked  till  the 
smaller  one  of  the  party  became  somewhat  alarmed  lest  the  carrying  off 
might  be  on  the  other  side.  But  our  motto  is,  "  ever  onward,"  and  the 
search  was  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  a  statue  standing  over  the  spot 
where  Gesler  raised  the  hat,  and  where  the  apple  was  shot  from  the  head 
of  the  son  by  the  unerring  hand  of  the  father.  Near  by  is  a  tower 
whose  outside  is  covered  with  frescoes  recording  events  in  the  life  of 
Tell. 

Curiosity  satisfied  at  that  point,  the  march  was  continued  to  Fluelen, 
at  the  extremity  of  the  Bay  of  Url,  whose  waters  were  stirred  by  the 
oars  of  the  hero  ;  upon  whose  banks  he  leaped  from  the  boat  which  was 
carrying  him  to  captivity  ;  and  upon  whose  hillsides  were  made  unfailing 
shots  from  the  bow  that  sent  the  arrow  to  the  heart  of  the  tyrant.  And 
we  were  permitted  to  look  upon  these  places,  so  hallowed  by  association, 
this  scenery,  unsurpassed  in  grandeur  and  beauty  even  in  this  grandest 
of  countries,  and  to  walk  nine  miles  at  the  foot  of  mountains  from  seven 
to  eight  thousand  feet  high,  all  the  way  on  the  border  of  the  loveliest 
lake  in  Switzerland,  the  Lake  of  the  Four  Forest  Cantons. 

The  Axenstrasse  is  nearly  all  the  way  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  by  the  side 
of  the  lake,  and  is  hard  and  smooth  as  the  floors  of  our  houses  ;  it  extends 
from  Fluelen  to  Brunnen.  At  our  backs  were  the  snow-clad  mountain 
peaks,  hazy  and  blue  at  their  base,  but  white  and  golden  at  their  sum- 
mits, giving  all  their  colors  to  the  waters  below,  while  far  away  in  the 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  99 

distance,  huddled  in  the  curve  of  the  lake,  was  the  goal  for  which  we  were 
striving,  Brunnen,  and  Schwytz,  four  miles  above  on  the  mountain  side. 
Ever  and  anon  we  met  droves  of  little  dun  Swiss  cows,  led  by  "  Broon 
Lesel,"  which  so  gracefully  wore  her  collar  to  which  was  attached  a  mon- 
strous bell,  followed  by  a  "  graceful  ring "  of  bells  and  cattle  to  match 
them  ;  all  these  were  preceded  by  a  mountaineer  playing  upon  his  Alpine 
horn,  and  following  by  another  sending  forth  the  Alpine  cry.  Who  can 
imagine,  who  can  tell  the  pleasures  of  the  walk  ?  And  the  Mecca  of 
Switzerland  lay  in  that  route ;  yea,  we  visited  it.  At  the  foot  of  the  great 
Axin  rises  a  little  chapel  visited  by  pilgrims  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
-  Tell's  Chapel.  It  stands  on  the  spot  where  the  brave  man,  released 
from  his  fetters  to  save  the  tyrant  Gesler  from  a  watery  grave,  having 
seized  his  cross-bow,  swung  himself  upon  the  plat, 

"High  springing  with  a  bound,  and  sending  back 
The  staggered  boat  from  the  whirl  of  waters." 

An  appreciative  people  raised  this  chapel  in  1588,  thirty-one  years 
after  the  death  of  the  one  to  whom  it  was  consecrated,  all  the  parties,  it 
is  said,  having  been  his  personal  friends ;  and  every  year,  on  a  certain 
day,  a  procession  of  boats  laden  with  flowers,  proceed  slowly  to  this  spot 
and  deck  it  with  wreaths  —  Nature's  language  of  love.  It  opens  upon 
the  lake  and  .bears  upon  its  three  sides  ancient  frescoes  representing  the 
principal  events  in  the  life  of  the  hero  whose  name  it  perpetuates. 

The  shores  of  this  most  beautiful  lake  have  witnessed  other  scenes  in 
the  history  of  Switzerland,  dear  to  the  freedom-loving  Swiss  as  well  as  to 
the  patriots  of  all  lands  where  Freedom  has  had  a  birth  and  still  lives  to 
honor  those  who  struggled  to  obtain  it.  At  the  extremity  of  the  Axen- 
strasse,  and  also  of  that  part  of  the  lake  called  Bay  of  Uri,  (for  the  name 
changes  merely  by  a  turn  in  the  waters,)  lies  Brunnen,  whose  white 
houses  had  been  the  guiding  star  to  the  travelers  from  across  the  waters. 
This  interesting  little  village  faces  Fluelen  at  the  eastern  extremity  of 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Axenstrassc,    3.  Monument  of  Schiller. 


IOO  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS. 

the  Bay  of  Uri,  and  also  Lucerne  at  the  south  end  of  Lake  Lucerne, 
and  it  occupies  a  position  only  second  to  that  of  the  last  named  place. 
Across  the  lake  from  Brunnen  is  the  "  Rutli  of  Schiller,"  where  the 
"Three  Confederates"  wrote  their  names  high  on  the  roll  of  fame  —  so 
high  that  nearly  six  hundred  years  have  not  erased  them  —  Walter  Furst, 
Werner  Stauffacher  and  Arnold  de  Melchthal.  In  the  name  of  the 
three  cantons  which  they  represented,  in  the  early  morning  hours  and  in 
the  presence  of  thirty  of  their  brethren,  they  took  upon  themselves  the 
following  vow  :  — 

"  We  swear  to  be  one  people  of  true  brethren, 
We  swear  that  no  extremity  shall  part  us ; 
We  will  be  free,  free,  as  our  fathers  left  us, 
Preferring  death,  in  any  shape,  to  slavery. 

And  we  Three, 

Firm,  strenuous,  without  fear  or  guile,  knit  hearts 
And  hands  in  one,  sp,  warmed  by  our  example, 
May  the  three  cantons,  Uri,  Schwytz  and  Unterwalden, 
Join  in  like  league,  prepared  like  us  to  stand 
Or  fall  together,  one  in  life  or  death." 

How  well  the  precepts  and  example  of  these  brave  men  have  been 
followed,  even  to  the  present  moment,  history  will  tell. 


LUCERNE. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TEP  with  us  on  board  the  Germania,  (it  ought  to  have 
been  the  William  Tell,  but  the  time  did  not  suit  us,)  and  try 
the  power  of  steam  on  this  lovely  Lake  of  Lucerne.  Al- 
though  the  sun  shone  very  warm  upon  us  as  we  waited  for 
the  boat,  once  upon  her  deck  and  the  wind  was  strong 
enough  to  overcome  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  we  almost 
shivered  as  we  went  from  one  side  of  the  lake  to  the  other,  to  give  each 
little  town  on  its  borders  a  call.  In  the  broad  noonday  sun  of  an  October 
day  we  landed  at  Vitznau  to  ascend  one  more  mountain  in  Switzerland. 

With  reluctance  we  gave  consent  to  be  forwarded  by  iron  and  steam, 
and  to  heap  up  the  raptures  of  this  ascent  instead  of  enjoying  them 
moderately,  one  at  a  time.  One  large,  broad  car  was  filled,  not  crowded, 
and  we  started  before  an  engine  —  yes,  before  an  engine,  for  we  backed 
up  the  steep  mountain  side.  At  first  the  curious  engine,  with  its  smoke- 
pipe  perpendicular  to  the  axis  of  the  earth,  (never  mind,  geographers, 
if  .this  is  not  strictly  true,)  took  the  attention,  but  soon  our  eyes  were 
drawn  away  from  objects  so  gross  and  earthly,  our  view  was  enlarged, 
and  our  thoughts  were  elevated.  One  slope  after  another  was  ascended, 
one  valley  after  another  was  laid  out  before  us,  and  one  lake  after  another 
was  added  to  the  scene.  Think  of  this  landscape,  with  a  soft,  hazy, 
dreamy  atmosphere  pervading  everything  and  giving  just  enough  uncer- 


l/G2  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

tainty  to  objects  to  allow  free  scope  to  the  imagination.  Little  misty 
clouds  rolled  together  below  us,  and  showed  a  silver  outside  instead 
of  lining.  One  hour  and  a  half  was  too  short  a  time  to  take  in  so  much 
beauty,  but  once  at  the  summit  of  Rigi  Kulm,  six  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  and  the  panorama  was  laid  out  in  one  grand  whole. 
Mount  Holyoke  gives  a  lovely  view  of  the  sister  peaks  of  the  Old  Bay 
State  and  the  winding  Connecticut  in  the  valley  below ;  it  is  soul-inspir- 
ing to  stand  by  the  grave  of  the  Father  of  his  Country  and  look  up 
through  the  valley  of  the  Potomac,  over  the  preparations  both  for  peace 
and  for  war,  halls  of  legislation  and  armed  forts  ;  Sterling  Castle  sends 
the  mind  roaming  back  through  ages  past,  and  recalls  the  bloody  scenes 
enacted  upon  the  thirteen  battle-fields  spread  out  to  view,  with  the  Forth 
winding  and  doubling  itself  in  folds  as  if  resolved  not  to  leave  these 
familiar  regions;  —  but  Rigi!  Rigi  presents  the  greatest  variety  of 
scenery,  the  most  magnificent,  the  grandest.  Almost  without  moving,  we 
could  look  upon  thirteen  lakes  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  dotted  with  innu- 
merable little  villages,  green  valleys,  and  mountain  peaks  too  many  to 
number  or  name,  and  all  these  encircled  by  the  Alps  bearing  ever  their 
crown  of  snow.  Fortune  certainly  does  favor  the  brave,  for  there  are 
only  a  few  days  in  the  year  when  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  this  scene 
can  be  enjoyed  to  such  advantage  as  they  were  on  the  27th  of  September, 
1873.  Oh,  for  the  brush  of  the  artist  or  the  pen  of  the  poet  to  portray 
the  scene  at  the  sunset  hour  !  The  crowd  from  the  one  large  hotel 
which  alone  has  the  right  to  occupy  this  eminence  were  stationed  for  the 
grand  display.  If  we  had  only  been  Argus-eyed  we  could  have  seen  the 
beauties  on  all  sides  at  a  time,  but,  with  constant  turning,  our  poor  weak 
eyes  served  us  well,  with  the  help  of  the  artificial  ones.  As  the  sun 
approached  the  horizon,  the  clouds  began  to  form  in  the  depths  below 
and  to  roll  up  one  after  another  till  trees  and  houses,  lakes  and  valleys, 

ILLUSTRATION.— Rigi. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  1 03 

hills  and  plains,  were  all  submerged  in  one  sea  of  cloud.  The  danger 
of  being  swallowed  up  by  these  waves  seemed  much  more  imminent 
than  when  upon  the  broad  Atlantic.  All  around  the  far  horizon  were 
the  mountain  peaks,  so  white  and  wavy,  so  dim  and  hazy,or  so  red  and 
fiery,  that  it  was  difficult  to  decide  where  earth  ended  and  the  regions 
of  an  entirely  different  nature,  above  and  below,  began.  All  too  soon 
darkness  covered  the  scene,  and  we  went  to  our  beds,  as  we  had  done 
many  times  before,  mourning  that  beauty  is  so  brief,  and  happiness  so 
short. 

At  an  early  morning  hour  the  Switzer's  bugle  call  was  heard  in  invita- 
tion to  go  forth  and  view  the  sunrise.  The  recollection  of  the  gorgeous 
scene  of  the  previous  evening  rendered  a  second  call  unnecessary, 
although  the  appearance  of  many  showed  that  the  toilette  was  not  as 
carefully  made  as  upon  ordinary  occasions.  A  large  number  of  sleepy, 
shivering  sight-seers  stood  at  the  summit,  ready  to  be  inspired  when  the 
proper  moment  arrived.  But  lo  and  behold  !  the  lord  of  day  drove  forth 
his  steeds  under  a  canopy  of  clouds.  What  a  blighting  of  hopes  was 
experienced  that  morning!  — for  we  had  hardly  yet  learned  that  it  cannot 
be  all  sunshine  and  no  clouds.  But  the  clouds  were  soon  dispersed,  and 
under  the  fairest  of  skies  we  descended  the  Rigi  on  our  own  footing,  in 
the  shade  and  in  the  dew  —  for  it  was  not  on  the  sunny  side  —  and  the 
Bay  of  Kussnacht  was  reached  at  the  broad  hour  of  noon,  although  an 
early  morning  hour  had  been  taken  for  a  start.  Here  again  we  were 
reminded  that  this  was .  the  land  of  the  freedom-loving  Tell,  the  tyrant- 
hating  Tell ;  these  were  the  peaks  that  echoed  and  reechoed  the  brave 
Switzer's  call  to  take  a  stand  for  liberty  and  for  right ;  these  were  the 
plains  where  the  bow  was  bent  which  sent  the  arrow  to  the  heart 
of  tyranny  and  destroyed  it  root  and  branch.  On  the  spot  where  Gesler 
was  slain  the  walls  of  a  little  chapel  rise  to  tell  the  tale  in  all  coming 
time. 


104  UNITED   STATES 

Must  we  say  that  dreaded  word  which  writes  itself  on  so  many  things 
we  love  ?  Must  we  leave  the  brightest  skies  and  the  bluest  waters,  and 
clamber  no  more  where  the  goat  and  the  chamois  make  their  home,  and 
where  alone  is  found  the  hut  of  the  shepherd  who  guards  the  flocks 
during  the  short  summer  hours?  Yes,  it  must  be  !  Ye  Alps,  farewell ! 
The  shores  of  the  queen  of  lakes  in  Switzerland  have  been  traversed 
in  the  sunny  September  days,  in  the  beautiful  Autumn  days,  and  in  the 
capital  of  the  canton,  Lucerne,  we  lay  aside  sachels  and  shawl-straps 
and  linger  a  little  in  this  city  of  light  to  examine  places  interesting  to 
historian  and  geologist,  as  well  as  to  all  admirers  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
true. 

Perhaps  the  first  object  which  attracts  the  eye,  as  we  approach  the 
city  by  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  is  the  picturesque  watch-tower 
standing  in  the  midst  of  the  river  Reuss.  It  was  formerly  used  as  a 
light-house,  and  gave  the  name  to  the  city,  Lucerna,  (light-house.)  but 
within  its  walls  the  archives  of  the  city  are  now  kept.  Parts  of  the  old 
walls  are  still  to  be  seen,  and  some  towers  still  stand,  like  the  ghosts 
of  departed  ages.  Other  reminiscences  of  the  past  are  also  to  be  seen, 
and  one  can  but  feel  that  he  is  liable  to  fall  into  the  power  of  the  spirit 
of  darkness  as  he  crosses  the  Reuss  on  the  old  covered  bridge,  on  which 
is  represented  the  "  Dance  of  Death."  From  whichever  direction  you 
cross  this  bridge,  so  old  that  it  seems  falling  under  your  feet,  you  are 
confronted  every  few  steps  by  the  image  of  the  grim  skeleton  whirling 
his  victims  of  every  age  and  every  station  off  into  other  realms. 

Then  who  has  not  heard  of  the  Lion  of  Lucerne  ?  Walking  through 
the  busy  street,  the  scene  changes,  and  the  traveler  stands  before 
towering  rocks  as  wild  and  grand  as  nature  made  them,  with  creeping 
vines  upon  their  naked  sides  and  tall  evergreens  standing  like  sentinels 
before  them,  and  here,  upon  the  rough  rock,  is  the  Dying  Lion,  modeled 
by  Thorwaldsen,  in  memory  of  the  brave  eight  hundred  (less  six)  who 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC.  IO5 

died  at  Paris  in  1792,  defending  the  royal  cause.  This  colossal  lion, 
twenty-eight  by  sixteen  feet,  is  represented  as  holding  the  fleur  de  Us  in 
his  paws  and  defending  it  with  his  last  breath.  The  Swiss  Guard  will 
certainly  not  be  forgotten  while  the  rocks  stand. 

Just  at  the  side  of  this  famous  rock  of  Art  is  quite  as  interesting  a 
work  of  Nature  —  the  Glacier  Garden.  Here  is  a  book  laid  open  in 
which  is  plainly  written  the  record  of  ages  past,  of  a  time  which  printing 
and  history  have  been  altogether  incompetent  to  reach,  and  of  which  the 
rocks  alone  give  a  true  account.  This  little  spot  of  ground,  112  feet  in 
breadth,  brings  together  times  the  most  remote  —  a  world  teeming  with 
life  and  activity,  another  with  scarce  a  sign  even  of  vegetable  life,  and  in 
which  there  was  no  possibility  of  animal  life.  It  puts  desolation  and 
plenty  side  by  side — a  winter  that  had  no  end,  and  an  ever-varying 
change  of  season  in  which  spring-time  and  harvest  each  has  its  appro- 
priate time.  It  is  the  past  and  the  present,  and,  as  its  name  signifies,  a 
union  of  dpposites.  This  Garden,  in  the  midst  of  the  city  of  Lucerne, 
contains  sixteen  "  Giant's  Pots,"  the  largest  forty  feet  in  diameter  and  as 
many  in  depth,  containing  several  round  stones,  some  almost  as  high  as 
a  man.  In  digging  for  a  cellar  in  this  locality  the  spade  of  a  workman 
entered  one  of  these  holes,  rilled  with  soft  dirt,  and  at  the  bottom  the 
circular  stones  were  found.  Upon  examination  the  sixteen  were  brought 
to  light,  and  no  building  was  reared  on  the  spot,  but  the  debris  was 
removed,  the  matter  was  taken  into  consideration,  and  a  satisfactory 
conclusion  seems  to  have  been  gained,  although  there  are  some  conflict- 
ing opinions.  The  Giant's  Pots,  with  the  rounded  blocks  of  granite  and 
limestone,  are  the  signs  of  a  time  when  glaciers  covered  the  plain 
of  Switzerland  to  the  height  of  several  thousand  feet.  These  ice- 
streams  flowed  down  from  the  heights  of  St.  Gothard  and  brought  with 
them  fragments  of  the  rocks,  and  as  they  retreated  deposited  these  frag- 
ments in  crescent-shaped  hollows. 
14 


106  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

We  could  but  fancy  ourselves  standing  in  this  same  quarter  of  the 
globe  many  (we  do  not  attempt  to  say  how  many)  years  ago.  Instead 
of  Lucerne  with  all  its  bright  attractions,  its  busy  streets  and  crowds 
of  men,  its  works  of  art  and  beauties  of  nature,  our  eyes  look  upon 
scenes  made  familiar  only  within  the  past  few  months.  Our  hands  seem 
to  grasp  the  friendly  alpenstock,  our  feet  to  be  covered  with  the  socks 
of  wool,  and  we  are  upon  the  blue  glacier,  looking  down,  down  into  the 
fearful  cracks  and  numerous  crevasses  into  which  the  little  rills  formed 
by  the  melting  ice  flow.  We  see  huge  stones  lodged  within  these 
crevasses,  as  we  have  done  many  times  of  late,  and  now  we  see  them  set 
in  motion  by  the  water,  and  by  this  constant  circular  motion  grind  out 
the  hollows  in  their  rocky  beds,  and  grind  themselves  smooth  —  perfect 
mills.  Another  work  is  going  on,  very  slowly,  at  the  same  time.  On 
the  lower  surface  of  the  glacier  is  a  layer  of  sand,  and  if  in  this  layer 
there  are  large,  sharp  pieces  of  stone,  they  are  pressed  upon  the  rock  in 
the  slow  but  sure  movement  of  the  glacier,  and  form  canals  such  as  we 
see  in  several  places  in  the  Glacier  Garden.. 

But  the  dream  is  past  and  we  are  witnessing  the  result  and  not  the 
operation.  A  lane  leads  to  a  raised  gallery,  with  cane  seats,  where  we 
can  sit  and  overlook  the  Garden,  the  Lion  monument,  a  little  building 
made  in  the  form  of  the  Bernese  Oberland,  in  which  is  shown  a  relief  of 
Switzerland,  and  a  glass  case  containing  rare  relics  of  the  lacustrine 
cities,  those  we  found  in  our  long  walks  and  frequent  halts  upon  the  shores 
of  Lake  Neuchatel.  All  this  within  so  small  a  space !  We  advise  our 
American  friends  to  visit  the  Glacier  Garden  of  Lucerne,  and  if  they  have 
not  as  pleasant  recollections  of  this  bright,  little  seaport  town,  it  will  cer- 
tainly be  because  they  do  not  go  there  under  such  lovely  skies,  in  the 
days  when  all  nature  seems  golden  and  all  the  world  at  peace. 

Another  lake —  Zug  —  another  little  town  nestled  under  the  mountains, 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Glacier  Garden.    2.  Lion  of  Lucerne. 


mM 


LE  MONUMENT  A  LUCERNE; 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  TO? 

or  hills  rather,  for  the  eminences  seem  considerably  diminished,  with 
its  old  cemetery,  where  is  one  remaining  tower  of  the  old  wall  ;  and  then 
another  walk  over  the  hills  and  by  the  side  of  Lake  Zurich,  surrounded 
with  villages  and  vineyards.  Passing  a  workshop,  whence  the  sounds  of 
labor  issued,  sounds  of  music  struck  the  ear,  a  familiar  strain, 

"Where  are  the  friends  that  to  us  were  so  dear, 
Long,  long  ago,  long  ago  ?  " 

We  stood  still.  Where  !  yes,  where !  The  broad  Atlantic  lies  be- 
tween us,  the  lands  of  foreign  countries  intervene,  months,  of  the  past 
and  months  of  the  future  lift  up  barriers  of  time.  Is  there  anything  else 
between  us  and  our  friends  ?  We  are  just  as  near  to  those  who  have 
crossed  the  dark  river  of  death  as  we  were  in  our  native  land.  "  What 
a  world  of  separation." 

We  have  all  seen  many  unequal  matches  in  our  intercourse  with  the 
world,  but  in  Switzerland  and  Germany  we  saw  a  greater  number 
in  a  certain  time  than  ever  before.  On  the  highway  was  a  large  loaded 
wagon  drawn  by  one  horse  and  two  of  the  genus  bos,  which  gave  unmis- 
takable evidence  that  they  supplied  man  with  the  usual  accompaniment 
of  the  bread  of  natural  life — one  by  the  side  of  the  horse,  the  other 
going  before.  We  have  seen  a  man,  and  also  a  woman,  drawing  with  an 
ox,  and  many  a  time  with  a  dog.  A  man  was  tugging  up  the  mountain, 
with  his  wife  upon  one  side  and  his  little  daughter  upon  the  other  ;  but 
let  it  be  to  his  credit  said,  that  he  bore  the  weight  of  the  burden.  We 
fear  many  are  as  unequally  yoked  in  America. 

Zurich  offered  attractions  to  the  travelers  sufficient  to  detain  them 
within  their  borders  over  a  bright  Sabbath  day.  Another  glimpse,  almost 
a  parting  glimpse,  of  the  beautiful,  silvery  Alps  (we  stop  to  gaze  upon 
them  wherever  we  can,  for  soon  they  will  lift  their  heads  no  more  for  us,) 
the  church  where  Zwingli  preached,  and  the  bow  of  William  Tell,  and 
then  we  hasten  to  the  Falls  of  the  Rhine.  Full  of  curiosity  to  see  this 
far-famed  river,  shall  we  be  disappointed  ? 


108  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

To  an  American  the  word  "  falls  "  suggests  our  own  Niagara,  and  no 
other  is  like  unto  it,  a  feeling  somewhat  akin  to  disappointment  is  liable 
to  take  possession  of  the  sight-seer.  If  such  should  be  our  lot,  we  could 
not  blame  the  weather-god,  for  he  is  still  propitious  unto  us,  still  be- 
stows most  benignant  glances  and  wears  ever  a  pleasant  face.  Here  we 
stand,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  just  at  the  point  where  it  flows  over 
the  jagged,  uneven  rocks,  and  sends  out  on  all  sides  and  at  all  times, 
flecks  of  foam  soft  and  white  as  the  snow  of  winter.  Upon  the  opposite 
bank,  too,  is  a  chateau,  the  castle  on  the  Rhine,  which  of  course  we  ex- 
pected to  see,  and  which  adds  much  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  scene. 
Within  the  walls  of  this  castle  is  the  place  to  descend  to  the  foot  of  the 
falls,  where  one  realizes  more  fully  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  It  is  indeed 
beautiful,  but  the  falls  are  only  about  half  the  depth  of  Niagara,  and  the 
grandeur  and  sublimity  of  the  deep  high  banks,  the  overhanging  rocks, 
and  the  immense  breadth  of  fall  are  wanting. 

A  walk  of  two  miles  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  brought  us  to  Schaff- 
hausen,  a  curious,  very  old  city,  which  dates  from  the  eighth  century. 
Here  we  made  ready  for  a  sail  on  the  Rhine,  read  about  the  famous  cas- 
tles on  its  banks,  —  one  occupied  by  Queen  Hortense  and  that  son  since 
so  well  known  in  the  annals  of  France,  another  a  prison  for  the  reform- 
ers John  Huss  and  Jerome  of  Prague,  —  and  embarked  with  the  early 
dawn.  A  heavy  fog  overspead  the  town,  but  that  was  not  strange  at  so 
early  an  hour.  We  sat  upon  the  deck  and  waited  for  it  to  clear  away. 
On  we  went,  growing  somewhat  impatient,  for  our  time  was  precious  ; 
but  that  did  not  drive  away  the  fog.  The  sun  came  up  and  gilded  the 
mists  a  little,  but  they  were  too  powerful  to  be  dispersed,  so  we  sailed  on 
oh  how  gloomily  !  Soon  the  fog  was  so  dense  that  the  authorities  deemed 
it  advisable  to  warn  any  coming  vessel  that  we  were  upon  the  track,  so 
every  few  minutes  a  shrill  wistle  was  sent  forth,  which  did  not  quiet  our 
nerves  in  the  least.  Disappointment  had  a  firm  hold  upon  us,  and  we 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  ICQ 

sailed  into  the  harbor  at  Constance  none  the  wiser  for  having  been  upon 
the  Rhine.  The  most  tantalizing  thing  in  the  whole  matter  was  that  we 
had  been  upon  the  land  but  a  very  short  time  when  the  sky  and  air  were 
bright  and  clear  and  beautiful. 

When  we  landed  at  Constance,  and  with  sachels  and  shawl-straps  walked 
confidently  toward  a  hotel  whose  doors  we  were  sure  stood  open  for  us, 
of  a  sudden  our  ears  were  saluted  with  sounds  that  were  altogether  for- 
eign, and  we  hastened  forward  paying  no  attention  to  them.  Again  they 
were  heard  and  louder  than  before ;  yes,  and  from  two  different  sources, 
and  gendarme  number  one  followed  by  gendarme  number  two,  rushed 
out  from  a  little  office  and  followed  after  the  sachels  and  shawl-straps  and 
the  United  States  girls  carrying  them  ;  as  if  they  thought  Uncle  Sam 
was  being  smuggled  into  their  dominions  and  would  cause  commotion 
among  the  crowned  heads,  When  we  found  that  we  were  pursued  we 
turned  calmly  around  and  delivered  up  the  offending  articles,  saying 
"  American."  Charmed  word  !  In  a  moment  smiles  wreathed  the  faces 
of  the  grim  gendarmes  and  by  motions  they  sent  us  on  our  way.  We 
soon  found  that  we  were  in  the  land  we  read  about  in  the  history  of  the 
Reformation,  and  Constance  was  interesting  because  the  ashes  of  John 
Huss  are  mingled  with  its  soil.  Here  one  hundred  years  before  the  time 
of  Luther,  was  this  John  the  Baptist  of  the  Reformation  summoned  to 
appear  and  cohdemned  to  be  burnt  alive,  which  sentence  was  executed 
after  being  imprisoned  eighty-seven  days.  Just  without  the  city  an 
immense  rock  stands  upon  the  spot,  and  the  delicate  Swiss  violets  waft 
the  perfume  of  his  holy  life  heavenward. 

A  dull  sail  on  Lake  Constance  under  leaden  skies  and  a  day's  ride  in 
German  land  in  a  drizzling  rain,  and  we  stopped  at  midnight  where 
Luther  came  so  prominently  into  notice  more  than  three  hundred  years 
ago,  went  into  the  old  church  Saint  Oolerie,  which  still  stands  a  monu- 
ment to  the  brave  reformer,  and  then  continued  our  way.  Convinced 


HO  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS. 

that  we  had  finished  our  traveling,  for  a  time  at  least,  not  a  day  too 
soon,  we  gladly  arrived  at  Munich,  repeating  the  words  of  the  poet, 

"  Wave,  Munich !  all  thy  banners  wave ! 

and  upon  the  banks  of  "  Iser  rolling  rapidly  "  we  took  up  our  quarters  to 
live  in  Germany  as  the  Germans  live. 


MUNICH. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

S  we  entered  the  precincts  of  this  city  after  the  warmer 
summer  days  had  passed,  even  after  that  second  summer 
whose  days  are  so  uncertain  that  we  know  but  little  of  their 
beginning  or  their  end,  we  could  not  expect  balmy,  pleasant 
weather,  and  if  we  had  should  have  been  disappointed. 
Rain  and  fog  and  gray  and  cold  and  bright  followed  each 
other  so  persistently  that  we  were  led  to  examine  the  records  of  the 
weather  for  years  that  are  past  — "  17  clear  days,  127  cloudy,  221  alter- 
nate weather  "  —  we  must  have  fallen  upon  the  latter,  although  they  tell 
us  there  have  been  more  bright  days  than  ordinarily,  and  it  has  probably 
been  like  our  own  autumn  days  after  all. 

This  city  lies  upon  very  level  ground,  supposed  to  have  been  a  sea- 
basin,  so  far  from  the  Bavarian  Alps  that  only  an  occasional  glimpse  can 
be  obtained,  and  that  a  sure,  forerunner  of  unpleasant  weather.  Munich 
lies  upon  both  sides  of  the  river.  We  find  upon  examination  as  to  the 
origin  of  a  city  in  this  particular  locality,  that  the  land  was  owned  by 
Monks,  and  that  the  first  settlement  was  called  "  Forum  ad  Monachos ;" 
this  was  more  than  seven  centuries  ago,  but  Munich  was  not  a  capital 
until  a  hundred  years  later.  Ludwig  the  Severe  was  the  first  ruler,  and 
in  the  very  midst  of  this  large  city  still  stands  what  was  at  that  time 
considered  a  very  beautiful  palace,  built  by  the  prince.  It  is  closely  sur- 
rounded by  modern  buildings  of  an  entirely  different  style,  and  yet  it 


112  UNITED    STATES   GIRLS 

looks  as  though  it  would  stand  for  centuries  to  come,  if  assailed  only  by 
the  hand  of  time.  It  is  said  to  belong  to  the  period  of  Duke  Ludwig 
the  Severe.  It  bears  on  its  walls  the  date  of  its  erection  and  also  the 
name  Alter  Hof 's  (old  castle).  It  was  an  object  of  great  interest  to  us 
as  it  doubtless  is  to  others. 

Next  to  this  castle  in  age  are  the  towers  of  the  old  walls,  erected 
before  the  close  of  the  same  century.  The  principal  one  is  the  Iser 
Thor,  a  fortified  gate,  consisting  of  three  massive  military  towers.  It  is 
adorned  with  frescoes  representing  the  battle  of  Ampfing,  fought  with 
the  Austrians  in  1322,  and  the  escutcheons  of  the  families  who  engaged 
in  this  conflict  are  painted  around  the  summit.  After  the  battle,  Ludwig 
entered  the  town  through  this  gate  in  triumph.  There  is  talk  at  present 
of  removing  this  old  landmark  from  the  place  it  has  so  long  occupied, 
because  it  is  a  barrier  to  business  and  free  circulation  through  the  streets. 
How  can  the  people  consent  to  have  so  picturesque  a  monument  of  past 
ages  taken  from  their  sight  forever  ?  Must  everything  yield  to  the  rush 
of  business?  Ludwig  obtained  the  imperial  crown  of  Germany  in  1314, 
and  reigned  more  than  half  a  century,  and  when  he  was  killed  in  a  bear 
hunt,  his  remains  were  placed  in  the  old  Frauenkirche,  although  he  had 
been  excommunicated.  When  a  new  church  arose  on  the  same  spot,  a 
new  monument  of  black  marble  was  given  to  Ludwig,  which  is  a  promi- 
nent object  in  the  principal  church  of  Munich,  the  new  Frauenkirche  or 
Dome. 

The  entire  house  of  Wittelsbach  (the  royal  family  of  Bavaria)  have 
been  distinguished  for  their  love  for  Art  and  Science,  and  they  have 
caused  to  be  reared  many  buildings  which  are  still  an  honor  to  them- 
selves and  their  city,  and  they  have  called  to  their  court  many  men 
whom  the  nation  and  the  world  delight  to  honor ;  therefore  Munich  has 
long  been  not  only  the  capital  of  Bavaria,  but  also  the  capital  of  the 
Fine  Arts  in  South  Germany,  and  her  public  buildings  and  parks  show 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC. 

the  statues  of  her  heroes  and  celebrated  men  all  along  from  the  time 
of  Albrecht  V.,  of  the  sixteenth  century,  who  collected  the  first  cabinet 
of  art.  Four  Maximilians  have  been  of  this  family,  and  the  fourth 
of  this  name  assumed  the  dignity  of  King  of  Bavaria  under  the  title 
of  Maximilian  I.  His  son  succeeded,  in  1825,  and  was  called  Ludwig  I., 
the  founder  of  new  Munich.  Under  his  administration  the  city,  with  its 
narrow,  angular  streets,  suddenly  became  extended  and  airy  and  light. 
Immense  palaces  and  buildings  arose  on  all  sides.  As  we  descend  one 
of  the  principal  streets,  Brenner-Strasse,  we  come  to  the  Konig's  Platz 
(King's  Place)  where  are  three  buildings  constructed  by  the  influence 
of  Ludwig  I.,  which  take  us  back  to  Grecian  antiquity.  These  three 
buildings,  the  Propylaeon,  the  Glyptothek,  and  the  Exhibition  Building, 
represent  the  three  styles  of  Grecian  architecture. 

Ludwig  placed  his  son  Otto  on  the  throne  of  Greece  to  deliver  that 
land  from  the  Turks,  and  to  keep  the  matter  constantly  before  the  Ger- 
mans he  reared  these  three  buildings  in  their  midst.  Without  knowing 
aught  of  this  fact,  we  felt  as  though  we  stood  upon  the  soil  of  ancient 
Athens.  The  Propylaeon  stands  over  the  street  like  a  triumphal  arch, 
and  foot  passengers  go  between  the  twenty-eight  massive  columns  in  the 
centre,  while  carriages  pass  upon  either  side.  The  Glyptothek,  intended 
for  the  reception  of  antique  sculpture,  is  one  story  high,  and  instead 
of  windows  has  niches  in  which  are  placed,  on  one  side,  the  statues 
of  the  protectors  of  ancient  art,  and  on  the  other  two  those  of  the  middle 
ages  and  the  present  time.  We  will  not  attempt  to  tell  of  the  wonderful 
collections  within  its  fourteen  rooms,  collections  made  almost  entirely 
under  the  influence  of  Ludwig. 

But  the  principal  proofs  of  his  industry  and  skill  are  seen  in  the  Old 
and  the  New  Pinakothek,  the  former  for  the  paintings  of  ancient  mas- 
ters, and  the  latter  for  modern  paintings.  All  the  different  schools  are 
here  represented  in  the  fourteen  hundred  pictures.  One  entire  room  is 
15 


114  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

filled  with  the  works  of  Rubens  —  the  largest  collection  of  his  paintings. 
The  original  "Beggar  Boys"  of  Murillo  is  here,  although  copies  are 
found  everywhere.  The  work  of  the  hands  of  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael, 
Titian,  Tintoretto,  Paul  Veronese,  and  all  others  of  renown,  as  well  as 
some  whose  names  are  not  known,  are  upon  the  walls.  The  New  Pina- 
kothek  is  a  very  strange  looking  building,  with  no  windows,  being 
lighted  from  above,  and  its  outer  walls  covered  with  frescoes,  as  its  inner 
are  with  paintings  of  modern  artists,  many  of  whom  are  at  present  living 
within  this  city.  Nine  hundred  artists  are  among  its  residents. 

These  five  wonderful  buildings  are  only  the  beginning  of  the  great  labor 
which  Ludwig  performed.  The  Wittelsbacher  palace  rose  as  a  residence 
for  the  heirs  presumptive  to  the  crown  of  Bavaria  ;  two  large  wings  were 
added  to  the  royal  palace  ;  also  the  Ruhmeshalle  (Hall  of  Fame,)  designed 
for  the  busts  of  persons  from  all  countries  who  have  distinguished  them- 
selves by  the  work  of  hand  or  brain,  of  which  ninety  of  life  size  are 
already  in  their  places,  within  this  hall  of  horseshoe  shape.  But  this 
stands  the  largest  casting  in  the  world,  the  colossal  statue  of  Bavaria, 
modeled  by  Schwanthaler,  whose  bust  occupies  its  niche  in  the  hall  near 
by,  and  whose  statues  are  everywhere  to  be  seen  in  Munich.  We  went 
into  the  head  of  the  famous  Bavaria,  but  did  not  come  out  of  her  locks, 
as  it  is  said  twenty-six  persons  did  on  the  day  of  her  erection  ;  but  we 
sat  upon  the  sofas  up  there,  and  looked  through  her  eyes  at  the  Bavarian 
mountains  and  the  country  round  about.  The  metal  of  this  statue,  of 
which  twelve  hundred  and  eighty-four  hundred-weight  were  used,  was 
from  cannon  captured  in  war.  The  Bavarian  lion  stands  at  her  side.  A 
great  deal  more  of  such  noble  work  might  be  mentioned  as  performed  by 
this  king  during  the  twenty-three  years  of  his  reign.  But  the  end  was 
not  so  noble ;  for  some  misconduct  he  was  obliged  to  abdicate  the  throne 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Statue  of  Bavaria  by  Schwanthaler.    2.  New  Pinakothek  —  Art  Gallery. 
3.  Cemetery. 


*««•  Pin*koth«k. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  1 15 

in  favor  of  his  son  Maximilian  II.,  and  Ludwig  occupied  the  palace  he 
had  caused  to  be  reared  for  his  heirs  to  the  crown,  before  they  had  worn 
it  instead  of  afterwards.  Maximilian  II.  reared  for  himself  a  noble  mon- 
ument in  the  "  Bavaresches  National  Museum."  He  said  of  it  in  his 
speech  at  the  inauguration  : — "  It  is  an  honor  and  example  to  my  people," 
words  engraven  upon  the  frontispiece  of  the  building.  After  Max  II. 
came  Ludwig  II.  and  time  alone  will  tell  whether  he  will  make  for  him- 
self such  a  record  as  did  the  first  of  the  same  name,  his  grandfather. 

The  in-comings  and  out-goings  of  the  "  Independent  Three,"  from  their 
quarters  on  Schwanthaler  strasse  (very  near  the  atelier  and  museum  of 
Ludwig  von  Schwanthaler  who  did  so  much  for  Munich  before  forty- 
eight  years  of  age  when  he  died,)  have  been  many.  It  would  not  be 
strange  if  they  had  caught  some  of  the  spirit  of  art  everywhere  so  man- 
ifest, and  they  certainly  will  take  across  the  ocean  very  pleasant  recollec- 
tions of  artists,  only  two  of  whom  they  will  take  the  liberty  to  mention.  At 
the  studio  of  Prof.  Kaulbach  we  were  delighted  with  the  man  at  his  work. 
More  than  seventy  years  of  age,  he  still  used  the  pencil  and  brush  most 
gracefully,  most  successfully  ;  and  he  bade  fair  to  adorn  many  more 
palaces  and  museums,  as  well  as  private  parlors,  with  the  work  of  his 
hands,  and  also  to  adorn  public  and  private  places  with  a  refined  and  gen- 
tlemanly presence.  We  shall  remember  long  his  pleasant  face,  his  genial 
words,  and  his  German  Michael  —  the  picture  on  which  he  was  engaged 
at  the  time,  representing  the  proud  victories  of  the  Germans  over  their 
neighbors  the  French,  by  the  well-known  features  of  Napoleon  III.,  and 
his  form  lying  prostrate  under  the  steed  of  King  William  of  Prussia.  A 
few  months  after,  in  the  sunny  lands  which  we  had  sought,  we  learned 
with  sorrow  that  he  had  laid  down  the  brush  and  would  paint  no  more, 
for  cholera,  the  dread  disease,  had  struck  him  with  the  chill  of  death. 

For  a  two  fold  reason  we  love  to  mention  a  second  artist,  Paul  Weber, — 
who  became  the  teacher  of  one  of  the  three,  and  enabled  her  to  carry 


Il6  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

back  to  her  native  land  beautiful  views  of  Germany,  and,  by  frequent  in- 
vitation, he  opened  his  home  to  the  three  without  home  and  impressed 
upon  their  minds  indelible  pictures  of  a  pleasant  family  in  the  Father- 
land. 

Almost  seven  weeks  in  Miinchen,  the  capital  pf  Bavaria,  each  of  our 
number  having  her  hours  for  one  of  the  three  separate  branches  of  study  — 
painting,  music,  and  language  —  and  the  remaining  hours  for  a  common 
purpose,  we  varied  the  time  by  study  and  amusement  We  visited  paint- 
ing galleries  too  numerous  to  mention.  In  the  public  library,  which  is 
second  only  to  that  of  Paris,  and  which  contains  800,000  volumes,  we 
saw  Luther's  Bible  containing  his  and  Melancthon's  portraits,  and  the 
gospels  written  in  gold  and  silver  vellum,  of  the  ninth  century,  beside 
many  other  interesting  relics.  We  saw  one  custom  carried  out  in  this  city 
which  we  never  heard  of  elsewhere.  As  soon  as  Death  claims  a  victim, 
the  body  is  removed  to  a  common  receptacle,  where  it  is  prepared  for  the 
tomb,  and  lies  exposed  to  the  common  gaze  for  a  couple  of  days,  in  large 
rooms  with  glass  fronts.  With  strange  feelings  we  walked  before  these 
rooms  for  the  dead,  and  saw  all  ages  waiting  for  burial ;  there  were  sev- 
eral babes  with  sweet  innocence  on  the  face,  there  was  childhood  with  the 
labor  of  life  cut  short,  there  was  middle  age  with  the  furrows  of  care,  and 
old  age  with  the  marks  of  distress  or  peace,  according  as  Time  had  been 
cruel  or  kind  ;  but  all  were  covered  with  beautiful  flowers,  and  the  impres- 
sion of  disease  and  death  as  far  removed  as  possible.  We  could  but  be 
glad  we  lived  in  a  land  where  we  could  keep  our  loved  till  the  earth 
covered  them,  and  then  look  above  for  their  home  in  the  skies. 

It  did  not  seem  to  be  the  season  of  the  year  to  learn  to  love  lager  beer, 
and  besides  it  might  be  conducive  to  cholera  for  those  unaccustomed  to 
it,  so  the  trio  allowed  others  to  carry  the  stone  mugs  filled  to  the  brim 
and  foaming  with  the  loved  beverage,  and  they  took  instead  the  coffee, 
almost  equally  loved  by  this  people.  Everybody  knows  that  the  coffee- 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  1 1/ 

houses  are  an  important  institution  in  Deutschland,  but  they  can  hardly 
realize  how  important  till  they  have  dwelt  there  for  a  time.     They  are 
the  resorts  of  all  classes  and  ranks  and  professions,  at  all  times  of  the 
day  and  night ;  they  are  everywhere  to  be  seen,  inviting  the  hungry, 
calling  the  thirsty,  tempting  the  laborer,  and  offering  food  and  drink  to 
all  as  economically  as  they  could  prepare  them  by  their  own  fires.     We 
are  told  that  many  laboring  men  and  women  set  no  table  at  home,  but  go 
always  to  the  public  cafes  and  restaurants,  and  that  many  of  the  servant 
girls  receive  daily  their  six  kreutzers  (four  cents)  with  which  they  get 
their  evening  bread  (abendsbrod)  and  beer  or  coffee.     We  see  on  the 
streets  men  and  women  working  together,  doing  the  same  kind  of  labor, 
and  upon  inquiry  as  to  the  children,  we  learn  that  they  are  taken  in  the 
morning  to  a  Retreat,  where  they  receive  care  through  the  day  and  a 
dish  of   soup  at  noon,  for  a  few  kreutzers.      It  is  very  interesting  to 
observe  the  way  the  people  get  their  daily  bread,  and  the  great  variety 
there  is  of  this  article  of  food.     No  one  prepares  it  at  home,  but  every 
one  can  be  accommodated  and  supplied  with  what  suits  his  individual 
taste.     At  certain  hours  of  the  day  almost  everybody  is  carrying  in  their 
hand  or  in  a  basket  bread  as-  though  it  were  a  baby.     There  is  every 
shade  of  color  and  every  quality  of  the  material  used.     There  is  milk 
bread,  egg  bread,  little  horns,  little  snakes,  braids,  all-souls'  bread,  seamed 
bread,  emperor  seamed  bread,  caraway,  coriander  and  salt  seamed  bread, 
(all  these  kinds  very  white  ; )  then  there  is  mason's  bread,  Romish  bread, 
little  black  loaves  and  long  black  loaves,  (the  ones  we  see  in  the  army  so 
much  ; )  these  and  many  other  varieties  are  made  of  flour ;   there  is 
besides  a  dried-pear  bread,  made  of  dried  fruits  and  nuts  chopped  and 
baked  ;  and,  to  end  with,  Johannes  bread,  which  is  not  bread  at  all,  but 
beans,  pods  and  all,  sweet  and  nutritious.     And  every  variety  of  this 
bread  is  good,  very  good,  just  as  good  as  if  made  at  their  own  firesides. 
There  is  certainly  no  trouble  in  finding  enough  to  eat  in  Munich,  if  one 


Jl8  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS. 

avails  himself  of  what  is  offered,  and  that  too  without  making  use  of  the 
national  dishes,  which  are  so  seasoned  and  compounded  that  it  takes 
time  to  learn  to  eat  them. 

Toward  the  end  of  November  the  threatening  skies  and  cutting  winds 
of  Munich  warned  us  out  in  search  of  warmer  skies  and  milder  breezes ; 
so,  on  a  genuine  Autumn  day,  we  again  took  up  the  line  of  march. 
Storm  and  rain,  unaccommodating  though  they  usually  are,  gave  a  fare- 
well view  of  familiar  peaks  and  towers,  (Frauenkirche,  Pinacothek  and 
Glyptothek,  Bavaria  with  the  lion  at  her  side  and  the  uplifted  wreath  in 
her  hand,)  by  taking  a  semicircle  about  the  city,  and  we  said  good-bye 
to  the  Queen  of  Art. 


INNSPRUCK. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

N  the  boundary  line  between  Bavaria  and  Tyrol  (Germany 
and  Austria)  was  an  extensive  fortification,  which  conclu- 
sively showed  that  these  countries  intend  to  be  separate 
divisions,  and  are  prepared  for  war  as  well  as  peace.  Bag- 
gage was  ordered  up  for  examination,  but  the  sachels  and 
shawl-straps  again  walked  through  unobserved  and  unexam- 
ined,  and  that  night  we  slept  in  the  capital  of  Tyrol.  The  first  beams 
of  the  morning  sun  bade  us  prepare  for  a  lovely  day,  and  with  alacrity  we 
obeyed.  As  soon  as  possible  we  were  in  the  streets  of  Innspruck. 
Many  times  before  during  this  trip  of  ours  had  we  greeted  snow-clad 
peaks  in  the  distant  horizon,  lighted  up  by  the  morning  sun,  but  never 
had  we  seen  a  city  entirely  encircled  by  them  — a  wall  of  snow  and  rock 
reaching  apparently  to  the  dome  of  heaven,  in  reality  from  six  to  ten 
thousand  feet  in  height.  A  lace-work  of  silvery  snow  ornamented  all 
these  peaks,  which  contrasted  most  beautifully  with  the  bright  blue 
of  the  sky  above  and  the  sombre  brown  of  the  rocks  below.  The  sun 
rose  majestically  over  the  scene  and  was  clearly  reflected  in  the  waters 
of  the  Inn  and  the  Sill,  coming  together  just  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the 
city. 

Art,  too,  has  assisted  in  making  this  place  interesting.     In  the  old 
Hof  kirche,  a  church  of  the  Franciscans,  is  one  of  the  most  splendid 


120  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

monuments  in  Europe — the  tomb  of  Maximilian  I.  It  occupies  the 
centre  of  the  church,  is  surmounted  by  a  bronze  statue  of  life  size,  and 
has  twenty-four  marble  reliefs  on  the  four  sides  representing  the  principal 
events  in  the  life  of  this  emperor.  Twenty-four  grim  skeletons  in  armor 
stand  in  file  on  both  sides  like  spectres  of  the  past.  Within  this  same 
church  is  the  bust  of  Andreas  Hofer,  the  William  Tell  of  Tyrol,  who 
met  an  end  so  unworthy  of  his  bravery  and  patriotism.  This  monument 
perpetuates  the  memory  of  the  Tyrolese  patriot,  but  the  bridge  over  the 
Inn,  where  the  invading  Bavarians  were  repulsed,  and  the  Isal  Berg, 
where  the  French  were  also  driven  back,  are  still  more  enduring  monu- 
ments, and  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen  bear  loving  records  which  the 
hand  of  time  can  not  efface  nor  the  advancing  ages  crumble  away. 

One  of  the  sunniest  days  of  the  year  was  that  spent  at  Innspruck, 
and  the  pale  new  moon  again  looked  upon  us  as  we  stood  high  above  the 
city  and  came  slowly  down  again  from  the  mountain's  side. 

Thanksgiving  Day  in  America  —  where  were  the  wandering  Three  ? 
Not  in  the  circles  where  they  were  wont  to  be ;  not  in  the  homes  where 
they  love  to  be.  Did  friends  speak  kindly  of  the  absent  ones  ?  —  wish 
they  could  taste  the  dishes  so  fondly  relished  in  other  days,  and  hope 
that  next  Thanksgiving  they  would  occupy  their  accustomed  seats  ? 
Going  over  the  Brenner  Pass !  Well  wrapped  in  cloak  and  shawl,  we 
entered  the  car,  where  was  spoken  German,  French,  Italian,  and  the 
English  which  the  Three  carried  on  entirely  between  themselves.  It 
seemed  somewhat  like  a  new  edition  of  Babel.  The  only  artificial  heat 
received  was  from  long  flat  pipes  filled  with  hot  water  and  placed  upon 
the  floor  for  the  feet,  which  we  found  very  serviceable.  We  started  under 
clouds  too,  for  the  sunshine  of  the  previous  day  did  not  extend  quite  far 
enough  ;  but  we  did  not  forget  to  be  thankful  for  the  sunny  skies  of  every 
land,  from  northern  Scotia  to  the  borders  of  Italy. 

The  first  few  moments  took  us  through  a  tunnel  out  upon  the  borders 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  121 

of  the  Sill,  which  we  followed  for  hours,  up,  up,  to  its  very  source, 
through  tunnel  after  tunnel ;  for  although  we  were  going  over  the 
mountain  pass,  we  could  not  go  over  all  the  peaks  in  the  route.  When 
we  started  the  snow  fringed  the  mountains  above,  but  soon  it  covered 
the  earth  all  about  us,  and  everything  seemed  held  in  the  icy  hands 
of  Winter.  So  complete  was  the  change  that  we  almost  imagined  some 
fairy's  wand  had  waved  over  the  scene,  and  all  had  been  turned  to  silver. 
Threads  of  silver  hung  from  the  dark  rocks,  umbrellas  of  silver  were 
spread  over  the  sombre  evergreens,  silver  carpets  covered  the  ground, 
and  silver  clouds  overspread  the  heavens. 

With  surprise  we  saw  great  numbers  of  houses  everywhere,  by  the 
side  of  the  railroad,  on  the  highway,  which  during  the  entire  route,  lay 
in  sight  sometimes  just  with  it  upon  a  narrow  space  hewn  in  the  perpen- 
dicular rock,  on  the  mountain  side,  where  it  seemed  that  no  foot  could 
scale,  and  stranger  than  all,  immense  castles  looked  down  from  many  a 
peak  and  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to  invading  hosts.  We  looked  for  cas- 
tles on  the  Rhine,  but  saw  them  on  the  Brenner  Pass.  It  was  often 
difficult,  however,  to  distinguish  the  pinnacles  and  peaks,  the  turrets  and 
towers  made  by  the  hand  of  man,  from  those  reared  by  the  Master  Archi- 
tect ;  both  make  the  traveler  feel  that  he  is  passing  beneath  strongholds 
which  time  and  force  can  hardly  suffice  to  destroy,  especially  when  the 
brave  hearts  of  the  Tyrolese,  men  and  women  too,  are  devoted  wholly  to 
the  defence  of  the  green  mountains  of  the  Tyrol.  We  passed  near  the 
spot  where  Andreas  Hofer,  with  his  small  band  of  Bavarians,  rolled  the 
huge  rocks  upon  the  invading  army,  and  rid  their  country  of  the  foreign 
foe.  Brenner,  the  highest  point  on  this  route,  is  4,604  feet,  the  highest 
railroad  in  the  world  ;  and  here  the  Eisenach  issues  from  a  little  spring 
and  commences  its  course  toward  the  sunny  plains  of  Italy,  while  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street  the  Sill  leaps  over  the  rocks  and  hastens  on  to 
Austrian  shores.  Before  we  were  fully  aware  that  the  descent  had  com- 
16 


122  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

menced,  the  winter  of  a  day  had  passed  and  gone,  the  snow,  where  was 
it  ?  Transient  and  passing  away  like  a  dream.  But  the  spring  was  yet 
too  young  to  put  on  her  robe  of  green,  she  must  bide  her  time  in  the 
nakedness  of  winter  and  store  up  strength  for  the  seedtime  and  harvest, 
which  will  surely  come.  Bare  and  brown  the  trees  extended  their  arms 
to. the  sun  in  the  numerous  chestnut  groves;  the  mulberries,  making 
ready  for  the  food  of  the  silkworm,  that  they  may  labor  the  coming  sum- 
mer for  the  lords  and  ladies  of  all  lands  ;  and  the  vines,  climbing,  cling- 
ing everywhere,  and  with  all  their  little  mouths  sucking  the  sap  to  supply 
the  luscious  grape  for  the  wine-press  of  man.  Still  the  snow  peaks  were 
lowering  in  all  directions,  and  every  few  minutes  we  stood  at  the  window 
and  gazed  upon  them,  yes,  bade  them  an  affectionate  farewell  for  fear 
they  would  be  things  of  the  past  when  we  looked  again. 

At  Botzen  we  waited  for  the  light  of  another  day  to  usher  us  into  the 
realms  of  fair  Italia,  and  were  fully  compensated.  Great  would  have 
been  the  disappointment  if  the  skies  had  not  been  propitious  unto  us.  A 
brighter  sun  could  scarcely  shine  upon  travelers  the  last  of  November. 
Everything  appeared  to  the  best  advantage  ;  the  red  porphyry  cliffs  were 
brilliant,  the  old  castle  occupied  by  Dante  in  1318,  was  illuminated  by 
sunshine,  even  the  marks  of  desolation  made  by  the  landslide  which 
destroyed  a  city  centuries  ago,  leaving  only  the  stones  to  tell  the  tale, 
and  the  pen  of  the  poet  in  Dante's  Inferno — these  were  brought  out  in 
terrible  distinctness. 

As  we  came  to  the  borders  of  the  sunny  land,  the  artificial  heat  was 
removed  from  the  cars,  the  cold  winds  were  left  in  the  mountains,  the 
skies  threatened  no  more  to  send  down  snow  and  hail  —  we  had  found 
what  we  sought  and  went  on  our  way  rejoicing.  Here  a  new  difficulty 
arose  ;  several  times  we  addressed  a  fellow-passenger  or  conductor  upon 
some  important  item,  and  in  reply  received  only  soft,  musical,  flowery 
sounds,  sweet  to  the  ear  but  unsatisfactory  to  the  sense.  English,  French, 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  123 

German,  all  elicited  the  same  reply.  Italian  must  be  examined,  so  with 
Badikers  Conversationbuch  we  walk  the  streets  of  Italy,  and  by  the  way 
we  would  like  to  inform  our  many  young  friends  that  the  study  of  the 
old  dead  languages,  which  they  sometimes  consider  such  a  useless  bore, 
is  a  sure,  solid  foundation  for  those  with  which  they  will  come  in  contact 
on  the  European  continent,  and  on  the  American  also.  Passing  a  fruit 
stand  one  day  we  observed  a  kind  of  fruit  which  was  new  to  us ;  our 
look  of  enquiry  was  answered  by  "  Apfelgranita."  The  course  of  reason- 
ing was  this  :  the  German  word  "  apfel "  means  apple,  the  Latin  pomus 
means  the  same,  making  the  substitution,  the  fruit  must  be  "  pome- 
granite,"  so  we  ate  the  angular  crimson-seeded  apple,  as  we  have  done 
many  others  since.  Latin  helped  us  out  of  that  difficulty  as  it  continues 
to  do  very  frequently. 

At  the  gates  of  Verona,  and  still  the  Alps  stand  by  us,  somewhat  dim 
to  be  sure,  but  there  nevertheless,  white,  picturesque,  grand,  majestic. 
Oh !  what  a  pleasure  they  have  been  unto  us,  and  their  image,  we  trust, 
is  engraved  indelibly  upon  memory's  page,  and  we  shall  turn  to  it  often 
in  coming  days,  and  in  imagination  cross  the  glaciers,  scale  the  peaks, 
tread  the  passes,  and  sleep  in  the  green  valleys  of  those  beautiful  moun- 
tains. 

Now  we  are  in  the  region  of  wars,  ancient  and  modern,  as  the  strong 
walls  of  the  city  we  approach,  would  clearly  prove.  Fragments  of  walls 
we  have  seen  in  many  places,  but  a  city  entirely  encircled  by  them,  in 
good  repair,  guarded  and  garrisoned,  and  ready  for  service,  not  until  we 
reached  Verona,  in  the  northern  part  of  Italy.  The  iron  horse  is  not 
allowed  within  these  walls  ;  so,  seated  in  the  omnibus,  we  passed  through 
the  heavy  gate,  and  a  man  in  uniform  took  the  liberty  to  put  his  head 
almost  in  at  the  window  and  cast  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  Uncle  Sam's 
three  daughters.  We  felt  almost  that  we  were  suspected,  watched,  and 
we  certainly  had  a  stifled  feeling  ;  the  walls  were  too  close,  and  in  fancy 


124  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

we  lived  through  some  of  the  terrible  sieges  which  the  city,  so  near  the 
dividing  line  between  the  two  countries,  has  experienced.  We  heard  the 
cannon  thundering  at  the  gates,  and  we  shivered  with  fear  as  we  imag- 
ined ourselves  shut  in  by  warlike  hosts.  But  we  were  soon  assured  that 
peace  reigned,  and  in  security  we  walked  the  streets  of  this  very  old  city, 
crossed  and  recrossed  the  Adige,  and  looked  with  intense  interest  upon 
the  labor  of  centuries  so  long  passed  away. 

First  of  all  the  old,  old  amphitheatre,  so  old  that  history  fails  to  record 
with  certainty  its  origin,  claimed  attention.  With  wonder  and  curiosity 
we  walked  around  this  interesting  work  of  the  ancient  Romans,  which  in 
size  ranks  next  the  Colosseum,  and  which  has  withstood  the  shocks  of 
time  even  better  than  the  structure  of  the  same  kind  at  Rome.  But  it 
could  not  withstand  the  shocks  of  the  earthquake  ;  its  huge  walls  were 
shaken  so  that  only  four  of  the  twenty-two  arches  rise  in  their  places  to 
show  what  they  were.  We  went  to  the  topmost  one  of  the  forty  rows  of 
seats,  and  tried  to  imagine  the  twenty-five  thousand  descendants  of  Rom- 
ulus rejoicing  over  the  contests  of  men  and  beasts.  Had  we  not  fallen 
asleep  over  Livy,  or  Virgil,  or  Cicero  as  we  prepared  the  lessons  for 
Cortland  Academy,  and  should  we  not  soon  find  that  the  arena  was  what 
it  had  been  so  many  years  —  a  story  and  a  dream  ?  But  day  after  day  it 
continued  to  raise  its  blackened  walls  on  the  Piazza  del  Bra,  and  to  face 
the  old  gate  which  has  been  standing  sixteen  hundred  years,  and  which 
presents  a  double  arch-way  over  the  broad  Corso  Victor  Emanuel ;  so  the 
past  and  the  present  join  hands  in  this  land  of  the  East. 

When  we  extended  our  walks  through  the  narrow  streets  and  came 
suddenly  upon  the  Piazza,  del  Erbe,  we  could  not  with  certainty  say  upon 
what  times  we  had  fallen,  past  or  present,  ancient  or  modern,  barbarous 
or  civilized,  the  abode  of  the  living  or  the  dead ;  here  were  indications  of 
all  times  and  of  all  kinds  —  most  elegant  palaces  of  marble  blackened  by 
age,  but  ornamented  by  art,  statues  of  Catallus,  Cornelius  Nepos,  Pliny 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC.  12$ 

the  elder,  and  others  of  the  loved  sons  of  Verona,  frescoes  upon  the  outer 
walls,  the  column  which  once  was  proud  enough  to  bear  the  famous  Libra 
of  St.  Mark,  the  statue  of  Verona  over  the  fountain,  the  tribune  in  the 
center  from  which  criminals  once  received  their  sentence,  —  and  beside 
all  these,  cabbages,  potatoes,  apples,  oranges,  pomegranates,  in  short,  a 
modern  market  place  in  the  ancient  forum  of  the  Republic  —  all  the  way 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous.  And  close  at  hand  in  the  public 
streets,  above  the  heads  of  the  living,  were  the  sarcophagi  of  the  illus- 
trious dead,  the  princely  monuments  of  a  family  of  princes  the  Scaligeri. 

Verona  claims  the  honor  of  being  the  birth-place  of  one  of  the  three 
celebrated  painters  of  this  vicinity  whose  works  adorn  church  and  palace 
everywhere  in  this  land  —  Paul  Cagliari,  better  known  as  Paul  Veronese. 

Again,  as  fast  as  steam  will  bear  us,  we  go  toward  the  shores  of  the 
sea.  Time,  too,  is  hurrying  us  away,  and  as  the  mountains  rise  in  the 
distance,  dim  and  shadowy,  still  suggestive  of  untold  grandeur,  fast  going 
out  of  sight,  so  the  days  and  the  months  of  1873  glide  into  the  past,  and 
soon  their  memory  only  will  light  up  the  journey  of  life. 


VENICE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LL  brides  are  lovely,  and  all  queens  are  beautiful,  but  where 
shall  the  words  be  found  with  which  to  describe  the  Bride  of 
the  Sea,  the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic !  The  orator  should  be 
golden-mouthed,  the  writer  should  dip  his  pen  in  sunset  hues, 
the  reader  should  look  with  the  eyes  of  bright  fancy  —  even 
then  Venice  would  not  appear  in  a  robe  which  is  not  her  own. 
The  presentation  took  place  in  the  last  days  of  the  year,  when  hearts 
were  softened  by  passing  time,  minds  were  brightened  by  imagination's 
touch,  the  senses  were  enkindled  by  the  fires  of  memory,  and  the  whole 
being  was  alive  to  beauty  and  art.  It  was  just  at  the  sunset  hour  that 
we  entered  the  realms  of  fair  Venice.  Never  did  gossamer  and  pearl 
more  fittingly  adorn  bridal  tresses  ;  never  did  diamond  glitter  with  more 
brilliant  lustre  in  the  bridal  veil ;  never  was  the  face  of  youth  and  beauty 
more  brightly  illuminated  at.  the  bridal  altar,  than  the  Italian  skies  on 
that  eve  of  the  declining  year,  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  The  colors 
of  the  rainbow  encircled  the  horizon,  shading  from  crimson  through  gold 
and  green,  and  the  bow  was  set  with  many  a  gem  of  light,  such  as  earth 
fails  to  produce.  All  the  brilliancy  of  color  and  light  was  repeated  and 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  General  view  of  the  Islands  with  the  Grand  Canal  passing  between  them 
at  the  left.  2.  Cathedral  of  St.  Mark.  3.  Square  of  St.  Mark's,  the  column  bearing  the  Lion  of 
St.  Mark  and  the  Statue  of  St.  Theodore ;  Palace  of  the  Doges  at  the  right  5  Palace  of  Victor 
Emanuel  at  the  left ;  Clock  Tower  in  front.  The  Campanile— Bell-Tower. 


,      >:     :!* 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  I2/ 

multiplied  over  and  over  again  in  the  face  of  the  waters,  and  the  rays 
glimmered  and  danced  and  glided  along  as  if  hunting  up  each  drop  of  the 
sea.  There  was  not  one  cloud  over  this  bright  scene,  and  the  feeling  of 
the  heart  was,  "  See  Venice  and  live." 

Escorted  by  a  polite  French  conductor,  the  sachels  and  shawl-straps 
were  introduced  to  a  German  gondolier  and  the  Three  went  out  upon  the 
streets  of  Venice.  We  made  our  entree  at  the  witching  hour  of  twilight, 
and  our  first  experience  in  a  gondola  was  under  a  full,  bright  moon. 
Seated  in  this  black  carriage  upon  the  waters,  we  passed  swiftly  along, 
feeling  that  we  were  attending  our  own  funeral,  so  weird  and  ghost-like 
everything  seemed  ;  on  the  borders  of  the  Grand  Canal  the  palaces  of  the 
past  looked  grim  in  their  grandeur,  around  the  walls  on  the  lesser  streams, 
the  man  in  the  moon  played  bo-peep  until  we  were  sure  we  were  being 
spirited  away  ;  and  rubbing  along  between  walls  so  high  and  gloomy,  that 
we  felt  as  if  looking  out  of  a  deep  well,  we  were  convinced  that  we  were 
being  taken  to  that  Bridge  of  Sighs,  so  fatally  crossed  in  the  days  of  yore. 
But  this  was  only  a  moonlight  view  of  the  strangest  of  cities. 

In  and  out,  under  and  around,  through  and  between,  in  all  sorts  of 
places,  we  entered  finally  a  broad,  open  harbor,  where  the  dreams  of 
Venice  were  all  realized.  How  could  the  human  imagination  draw  a 
fairer  picture  ?  On  every  side  out  of  the  water  the  palaces  of  Princes, 
the  spires  of  cathedrals,  the  domes  of  churches,  the  museums  of  art  rose 
in  the  misty  moonlight,  and  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark  guarded  them  all.  We 
anchored  before  an  inviting  home  for  wanderers,  were  welcomed  by  a 
genial  German  face,  and  slept  as  soundly  as  though  we  were  not  upon 
the  borders  of  the  uncertain  deep. 

The  morning  dawned  as  the  day  had  waned,  roseate  and  golden,  and 
like  charity,  increased  its  own  wealth  by  dispensing  its  gifts  to  everything 
around.  Will  our  friends,  one  and  all,  accompany  us  on  a  tour  of  explo- 
ration, and  observation  —  a  tour  of  two  weeks  and  a  half  in  length  ?  No 


128  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

shorter  time  will  suffice ;  so  every  morning  be  prepared  to  commence 
almost  with  the  sun,  and  stop  not  until  his  course  is  done.  We  started 
from  an  appropriately  named  hotel  (Aurora)  which  faces  the  open  sea, 
and  the  broad  sun,  too,  rejoicing  three  of  its  inmates,  at  least,  with  bright 
light  and  pure  air.  You  know  full  well  that  the  domains  of  Venetia  rise 
out  of  the  Adriatic,  not  all  together,  but  in  one  hundred  and  seventeen  dis- 
tinct parts,  and  that  her  lord,  the  sea,  encircles  them  with  loving  embrace, 
which  for  centuries  has  not  relaxed  or  grown  cold.  It  is  necessary  for  us 
thus  early  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  our  queen's  consort,  for  we  shall 
want  many  favors  at  his  hands,  and  shall  often  avail  ourselves  of  the  skill 
and  knowledge  of  his  servants  in  visiting  points  of  interest.  Our  first  view, 
on  this  first  morning,  is  of  this  same  old  sea,  holding  in  his  hands  the 
wealth  of  his  bride,  and  the  flags  of  all  nations  wave  proudly  above  him. 
We  go  out  upon  the  street  and  walk  over  the  broad  pavement  of  the  Riva 
del  Schiavoin,  crossing  three  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixpontes,  over  three 
of  the  one  hundred  and  forty-six  canals,  all  of  which  will  become  familiar 
to  us.  Here  begins  our  acquaintance  with  Venetian  life,  superficial  per- 
haps, and  common,  but  such  as  we  meet  everywhere  in  these  streets. 
People  of  all  countries  come  face  to  face  with  us.  The  dress  of  all  nations 
is  displayed  here,  and  the  accents  of  all  lands  break  upon  the  ear —  one 
more  familiar  than  all  the  rest  often  brings  the  Three  to  a  halt  on  their 
march  and  sends  an  enduring  glance  out  after  the  one  whose  tongue  de- 
clares him  of  kindred  birth. 

But  we  have  now  come  to  a  point  where  we  must  stand  still  and  gaze 
—  gaze  and  admire  —  admire  and  wonder.  It  is  not  strange  that  this 
people  say  :  — "  One  Venice,  one  Sun,  and  one  Piazza  San  Marco."  The 
state  entrance  from  the  sea,  where  Cardinals  and  Doges  and  Kings  are 
landed  —  and  many  common  people  too  —  is  between  two  granite  col- 
umns, one  bearing  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark,  the  other  the  statue  of  St. 
Theodore,  the  former  patron  saint  of  the  city ;  and  this  is  the  entrance 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  1 29 

also  to  that  famous  piazza  which  ranks  so  high  not  only  in  the  opinion  of 
the  Venetians  but  also  in  the  judgment  of  all  who  look  upon  it.  Nearly 
six  hundred  by  three  hundred  feet  in  extent,  paved  with  stones  as  smooth 
as  our  floors,  surrounded  by  sumptuous  palaces,  ancient  and  modern, 
adorned  with  the  work  of  all  ages,  in  marble  and  painting,  who  can  esti- 
mate the  beauty  and  life  and  interest  that  center  here  ?  In  the  arcades 
which  encircle  it  upon  three  sides,  are  the  beautiful  productions  of  this 
country  in  glass-work,  corals,  jewelry,  and  everything  ornamental  and 
gorgeous  ;  on  the  fourth  that  palace  so  famous  in  the  history  of  Venice, 
the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  and  the  cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  equally  renowned 
for  its  age,  and  grandeur,  and  relics,  and  for  its  famous  horses,  which 
have  traveled  from  Rome  to  Constantinople,  to  Venice,  to  Paris,  then 
back  again  to  Venice.  High  above  all  this  towers  the  Campanile,  which 
Napoleon  I.  ascended  on  horseback  when  he  conquered  Venice. 

And  everywhere  in  this  bright  scene  are  the  gentle,  graceful  doves, 
hovering,  fluttering,  alighting,  their  plumage  variegated  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun,  purple,  crimson  and  green,  the  pure  white  beneath  their  wings 
showing  only  when  they  soar  aloft,  reminding  one  of  angels  in  beautiful 
disguise ;  when  the  whole  flock,  almost  innumerable,  take  a  sudden 
fright  and  all  together  rise  in  the  regions  of  air,  we  seem  to  look  up  into 
starry  regions,  but  they  soon  become  falling  stars,  and  settle  again  in  our 
midst,  again  putting  on  the  robes  of  earth.  These  doves  are  the  prop- 
erty of  the  city,  protected  by  its  laws  and  fed  on  its  bounty  ;  and  every 
day  at  two  o'clock  their  dinner  bell  is  rung  and  a  sumptuous  repast  is 
served  at  the  hands  of  one  appointed  for  the  task,  assisted  by  numerous 
little  boys  and  girls,  provided  with  their  soldi  of  corn.  They  are  consid- 
ered as  guardians  of  the  city,  their  presence  giving  promise  that  it  will 
not  be  swallowed  up  by  the  sea,  and  they  are  said  to  join  in  the  religious 
observances  by  flying  daily  three  times  around  the  city  in  token  of  the 
Trinity. 
17 


I3O  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

As  we  have  walked  through  the  Piazza  San  Marco  one  after  another  of 
these  December  days,  in  the  midst  of  the  scenes  we  have  described,  the 
sun  shining  with  a  clear  bright  light,  the  band  playing  lively  Italian  airs, 
the  people  sitting  at  the  tables  in  the  open  place  sipping  their  coffee,  and 
the  flower  girls  presenting  their  bouquets,  we  could  but  ask,  how  is  it  at 
Syracuse  ?  Pardon  us  for  being  thus  tantilizers,  in  drawing  comparisons, 
but  for  one  winter,  at  least,  give  us  Venice. 

We  are  not  going  to  take  much  time  and  space  to  tell  about  the  Church 
of  St.  Mark,  with  its  forty  thousand  square  feet  of  mosaics,  some  of  them 
dating  from  the  eleventh  century ;  its  six  hundred  columns,  many  of 
them  bearing  capitals  brought  from  the  church  at  Jerusalem  ;  its  two  spi- 
ral translucent  columns  of  alabaster  from  the  temple  of  Solomon  ;  the 
stone  on  which  Christ  stood  when  he  preached  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Tyre ;  the  one  on  which  John  the  Baptist  was  beheaded  ;  the  relics  of 
St.  Mark,  said  to  have  been  stolen  from  Alexandria  and  brought  to  Ven- 
ice ;  —  we  are  not  going  to  tell  of  these,  nor  of  the  floor  of  white  and 
colored  marble,  agate,  porphyry,  iapis-lazuli  and  malachite  beautifully 
arranged,  but  so  disturbed  by  the  tread  of  feet  and  lapse  of  ages,  that 
one  feels  as  though  walking  on  uneven  ground  ;  nor  scarcely  a  word 
about  the  lack  of  windows  and  the  consequent  gloomy  appearance  of 
this  church,  for  it  is  the  famous  cathedral  of  St.  Mark. 

We  shall  not  say  much  about  a  structure  perhaps  equally  interesting 
to  readers  and  sight-seers,  the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  whose  majestic  and 
magnificent  walls  of  red  and  white  marble  once  seen  can  never  be  for- 
gotten—  the  Hall  of  the  Upper  Council,  one  of  the  finest  rooms  in 
Europe,  a  suitable  place  of  meeting  for  those  whose  names  were  written 
in  the  Golden  Book  of  the  Republic  ;  the  Hall  of  Scrutiny,  for  the  forty- 
two  noblemen  who  appointed  the  Doge ;  the  Hall  of  Inquisition,  whose 
ten  chairs  still  occupy  their  places,  stiff  and  stern,  though  their  occupants 
have  long  since  passed  to  their  reward  ;  and  the  Hall  of  the  "  Fearful 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  I31 

Three,"  around  which  dark  memories  hover  that  send  shivering  sighs 
through  the  form  of  the  beholder,  in  vain  sympathy  for  those  who, 
centuries  ago,  appeared  before  this  cruel  tribunal.  Just  one  word  about 
the  Doge's  letter-box,  the  Lion's  Mouth,  which  gaped  so  many  centuries 
to  receive  its  victims  and  send  them  with  certainty  over  that  fatal  bridge 
whose  end  was  death.  It  is  there  yet,  open,  but  harmless  ;  it  bites  not, 
for  the  teeth  are  gone.  We  crossed  that  bridge  from  the  palace  to  the 
prison,  looked  into  the  rayless  rooms  where  the  condemned  slept  without 
a  bed,  saw  the  horrid  preparations  for  disposing  of  the  victims  who  stood 
in  the  way  of  ruler  or  accuser,  and  went  back  rejoicing  that  our  home 
was  in  free  America,  our  government  an  independent  republic.  This 
Ducal  Palace  and  this  Bridge  of  Sighs  have  been  the  theme  of  many  a 
poet  and  novelist,  and  Byron  and  Dickens  describe  them  in  language  all 
chaste  and  glowing. 

Do  not  think  that  one  day's  sun  is  all  that  is  necessary  for  that  Piazza 
St.  Mark,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  promenades  in  the  world ;  —  that 
Cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  which  was  consecrated  in  the  year  mi,  but 
which  has  been  adorned  and  beautified  through  all  the  intervening  cen- 
turies, until  it  is  filled  and  weighed  down  with  the  works  of  art  and 
genius,  the  precious  productions  of  Mother  Nature  and  the  wonders 
of  the  world  ;  that  Palace  of  the  Doges,  which  Dickens  says  is  more 
beautiful  in  its  old  age  than  all  the  buildings  of  the  earth  in  the  prime 
and  fulness  of  their  youth ;  the  palace  of  the  reigning  King  of  United 
Italy,  Victor  Emanuel,  which  he  keeps  in  readiness  but  never  occupies  — 
the  palace  of  the  present  face  to  face  with  the  palace  of  the  past ;  the 
Campanile,  the  highest  monument  in  Venice,  which  is  ascended  by  an 
inclined  plane,  having  one  step  at  each  angle  as  you  go  around  and 
around  up  to  the  summit,  and  there  look  out  upon  one  of  the  finest 
views  in  the  world  —  distant,  snow-capped  mountain  peaks,  blue  and 
misty  realms  on  the  face  of  the  deep,  and  a  city  which  belongs  to  both 


132  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

land  and  sea  ;  the  three  standard  poles  which  bore  the  flags  oi  the  con- 
quered countries,  Cyprus,  Candia  and  Morea,  when  Venice  was  in  her 
glory,  the  queen  of  many  realms,  but  which  now  support  the  flags  of  the 
Italian  nation  ;  —  no !  day  after  day  we  pass  through  this  glorious  place, 
and  every  day  adds  to  its  glory,  until  our  eyes  are  dazzled  and  our  senses 
bewildered. 

"  A  vision  rises  out  of  the  earth,  and  all  the  great  square  seems  to 
have  opened  from  it  in  a  kind  of  awe,  that  we  may  see  it  far  away  ;  —  a 
multitude  of  pillars  and  white  domes,  clustered  into  a  long  low  pyramid 
of  colored  light ;  a  treasure-heap,  it  seems,  partly  of  gold  and  partly 
of  opal  and  mother-of-pearl,  hollowed  beneath  into  five  great  vaulted 
porches,  ceiled  with  fair  mosaic,  and  beset  with  sculpture  of  alabaster, 
clear  as  amber  and  delicate  as  ivory.  And  round  the  walls  of  the  porches 
there  are  set  pillars  of  variegated  stones,  jasper,  and  porphyry,  and  deep- 
green  serpentine  spotted  with  flakes  of  snow,  and  marbles  that  half  refuse 
and  half  yield  to  the  sunshine,  Cleopatra-like,  '  their  bluest  veins  to  kiss ' 
—  the  shadow  as  it  steals  back  from  them  revealing  line  after  line 
of  azure  undulation  as  a  receding  tide  leaves  the  waved  sand  —  a  confu- 
sion of  delight,  amidst  which  the  breasts  of  the  Greek  horses  are  seen 
blazing  in  their  breadth  of  golden  strength,  and  the  St.  Mark's  Lion, 
lifted  on  a  blue  field  covered  with  stars,  until  at  last,  as  if  in  ecstacy,  the 
crests  of  the  arches  break  into  a  marble  foam  and  toss  themselves  far 
into  the  blue  sky  in  flashes  and  wreaths  of  sculptured  spray,  as  if  the 
breakers  on  the  Lido  shore  had  been  frost-bound  before  they  fell,  and 
the  sea-nymphs  had  inlaid  them  with  coral  and  amethyst.  The  St. 
Mark's  porches  are  full  of  doves,  that  nestle  among  the  marble  foliage 
and  mingle  the  soft  iridescence  of  their  living  plumes,  changing  at  every 
motion,  with  the  tints,  hardly  less  lovely,  that  have  stood  unchanged  for 
seven  hundred  years." 

Dr.  Fish  says :— "The  story  of  the  doves  is  that  at  the  siege  of  Can- 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  133 

dia,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  Admiral  Dandolo  had  intelligence  brought 
to  him  by  carrier-pigeons  which  helped  him  to  take  the  island,  and  that 
he  used  the  same  swift-winged  heralds  to  send  the  news  to  Venice. 
From  that  day  to  this  they  have  been  protected,  and  thus  they  have 
been  the  pets  of  Venice  for  six  hundred  years." 

We  have  traversed  but  a  very  small  part  of  this  city  on  the  water, 
which  extends  about  two  miles  from  east  to  west,  and  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  from  north  to  south,  having  gone  very  little  beyond  this  central 
point ;  but  we  will  now  extend  our  perambulations  and  walk  through  the 
Merceria,  where  the  ladies  go  "  shopping,"  the  Broadway  of  this  city,  (it 
is  hardly  broad  enough  for  three  people  to  walk  side  by  side  in  many 
places.)  After  turns  and  encounters  numberless  with  the  many  going  in 
an  opposite  direction,  we  come  to  the  famous  Rialto  bridge  which  extends 
over  the  Grand  Canal.  Here  we  shall  pause  and  consider  the  locality. 
The  word  Rialto  (Riva  Alto)  means  High  Shore,  and  it  was  the  name 
given  to  the  central  island,  the  oldest  part  of  Venice.  Near  by  we  see 
the  oldest  church  in  Venice,  founded  in  421,  and  we  look  with  curiosity 
upon  the  porch  of  Greek  marble,  which  is  about  all  that  is  left  of  the 
original  building.  From  the  Rialto  bridge  we  look  up  and  down  the 
Grand  Canal,  the  thoroughfare  of  the  city,  upon  the  blue  sky,  but  a  small 
part  of  which  we  have  been  able  to  see  on  our  walk,  and  upon  the  busy 
scenes  of  commerce  which  continue  to  be  enacted  here  as  they  were  in 
the  days  of  old.  We  remember  that  Shakspeare  speaks  of  the  merchants 
of  the  Rialto,  but  it  was  not  to  the  bridge  but  the  island  that  he  alluded. 

The  Canalazzo,  or  Grand  Canal,  is  from  thirty  to  sixty  yards  wide,  like 
the  letter  S,  and  nearly  two  miles  long,  the  largest  part  on  the  north- 
east. The  Grand  Rialto  is  a  high  arch,  with  one  central  and  two  side 
flights  of  stairs,  separated  by  a  row  of  twelve  shops  on  each  side. 

Byron  says, — 

"  Didst  ever  see  a  gondola  ?    For  fear 

You  should  not  I'll  describe  it  you  exactly  ; 


134  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

'Tis  a  long  covered  boat  that  'B  common  here, 
Carved  at  the  prow,  built  lightly  but  compactly. 

Rowed  by  two  rowers,  each  called  gondolier, 
It  glides  along  the  water  looking  blackly, 

Just  like  a  coffin  clapped  in  a  canoe, 

Where  none  can  make  out  what  you  say  or  do. 

"  And  up  and  down  the  long  canals  they  go, 

And  under  the  Rialto  shoot  along, 
By  night  and  day.  all  paces,  swift  or  slow  ; 

And  round  the  theatres,  a  sable  throng, 
They  wait  in  their  dusky  livery  of  woe ; 

But  not  to  them  do  woful  things  belong, 
For  sometimes  they  contain  a  deal  of  fun, 
Like  mourning  coaches  when  the  funeral 's  done." 

Through  the  one  hundred  and  forty-nine  canals,  under  the  three  hun- 
dred and  six  arched  bridges  of  marble,  the  gondolas  glide,  and  the  cries, 
"Stall!"  (to  the  right)  and  "Premi!"  (to  the  left)  come  like  songs  to 
the  ear,  to  warn  those  approaching  of  the  danger  of  collision.  We  are 
upon  the  briny  waters  of  the  deep,  that  come  and  go  with  the  tides 
of  ocean  through  the  narrow  passages  walled  in  by  palaces,  the  difference 
between  the  lowest  and  highest  tides  being  six  feet  three  inches,  and  the 
average  difference  from  two  to  three  feet. 

One  of  the  peculiar  institutions  of  this  peculiar  city  is  the  water- 
carrier,  who,  with  two  brass  buckets  across  her  shoulder,  (from  which  a 
little  ragged  urchin  might  steal  a  drink,)  goes  to  the  open  square  and 
fills  them  from  the  artesian  wells  with  water  brought  from  under  the  sea. 

We  did  not  forget  the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  (Ponte  del  Sospiri,)  which 
Byron  tells  us  in  "  Childe  Harold  "  was  "  a  corridor  divided  by  partitions 
into  two  narrow  halls,  one  for  political  prisoners,  the  other  for  common 
criminals.  Two  tiers  of  dungeons,  ten  in  each,  the  only  furniture  a  pillow 
of  stone,  two  feet  long,  fifteen  inches  wide,  four  inches  high.  The  pris- 
oner, when  taken  out  to  die,  was  conducted  across  the  gallery  to  the 
other  side,  and  then  being  led  back  into  the  other  compartment  of  the 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  The  Rialto  Bridge  over  the  Grand  Canal.    2.  Bridge  of  Sighs.    3.  Water 
carriers. 


PONTE  DI  RIAL  TO 


POJS'TE   DEI     SOSP1R1 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  135 

bridge,  was  strangled.  The  portal  is  now  walled  up,  but  the  passage  is 
called  the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  Scarcely  a  ray  of  light  glimmers  into  the 
narrow  gallery  which  leads  to  the  cells,  and  the  places  of  confinement 
are  totally  dark.  A  small  hole  in  the  wall  admitted  the  damp  air  of  the 
passages,  and  served  for  the  introduction  of  the  prisoner's  food.  The 
cells  are  about  five  paces  in  length,  two  and  a  half  in  width,  and  seven 
in  height."  With  candle  in  hand  we  followed  the  guide  through  all 
these  dismal  scenes,  and  we  felt  that  the  name  was  rightly  given. 

So  we  went  day  after  day  in  different  directions,  until  we  had  passed 
over  the  limits  of  the  city,  and  visited  very  many  of  its  ninety  churches, 
remembering  especially  the  ones  which  contained  the  tombs  of  the  three 
most  celebrated  Venetian  painters  —  Titian,  Tintoretto  and  Paul  Vero- 
nese. This  city  and  this  country  is  full  of  their  works,  and  the  land  still 
rings  with  their  praises.  The  tomb  of  Titian  is  decorated  with  a  beau- 
tiful bas  relief  of  his  finest  painting,  the  Assumption,  and  in  the  Hall 
of  Fine  Arts  we  see  his  first  painting  at  fourteen  years  of  age,  his  best 
at  middle  life,  and  his  last  at  ninety-nine.  Surely  time  and  strength 
were  given  unto  genius,  and  the  three  wrought  a  glorious  work.  In  the 
same  church  with  the  tomb  of  Titian  is  the  curious  one  of  the  sculptor 
Canova,  modeled  by  himself,  —  a  procession  of  the  Arts  following  one 
of  their  number  to  the  tomb,  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark  looking  on  with 
sadness. 

During  all  the  eighteen  days  that  we  were  in  the  realms  of  fair  Venetia 
continued  sunshine  brightened  the  face  of  our  queen  —  pure,  unalloyed 
sunshine,  except  in  a  single  instance  of  a  few  hours,  when  the  clouds 
encircled  her  brow ;  but  they  so  soon  passed  away  that  they  scarcely 
made  an  impression.  Only  one  thing  marred  the  pleasantness  of  our 
stay,  and  that  was  the  constant  applications  on  every  hand  for  the  admin- 
istration of  charity.  The  words  we  could  not  understand,  but  who  could 
mistake  the  looks  and  gestures  ?  No  matter  how  exquisite  the  work 


136  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

of  art  we  were  contemplating,  how  grand  the  structure  we  looked  upon, 
how  lovely  the  skies  at  the  sunset  hour,  or  how  fervent  the  prayer  within 
the  church  walls,  everything  was  interrupted  by  the  meagre  hand,  the 
pleading  eyes  and  the  wailing  tones  of  all  ages.  It  was  terrible ;  and 
we  must  recommend  the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  and  the  King  of  United 
Italy  to  devise  some  means  by  which  the  land  shall  be  rid  of  this  dreadful 
scourge  of  beggars. 

Venice  is  amphibious  —  a  mermaid  or  sea-nymph.  The  lower  part  is 
a  fish,  but  above  the  form  is  human.  Like  Venus,  it  sprang  up  self-crea- 
tive from  the  froth  of  the  sea.  The  Veneti  took  refuge  from  Attila  in 
these  islands  of  the  sea  and  began  to  build  a  city  after  the  Roman  empire 
had  fallen.  It  was  married  to  the  sea  every  year,  but  the  cunning  Vene- 
tians instead  of  wasting  their  treasures  dropped  the  glittering  bauble  into 
a  net  carefully  spread  for  the  purpose,  in  which  it  was  fished  up  to  be 
used  in  the  ceremonies  of  successive  years.  The  ring  was  of  gold  and 
gems  as  large  as  one  of  those  huge  door-knockers  that  in  former  days 
gave  dignity  to  the  portals  of  great  mansions. 

There  must  always  be  something  sad  connected  with  our  recollection 
of  every  place  ;  so  in  Venice  there  was  a  picture  which  left  its  impress 
upon  our  mind  —  the  parting  of  the  Doge  Marino  Faliero  with  his  heart- 
broken wife  when  he  went  forth  to  be  beheaded  —  a  traitor  —  and  in  that 
palace  of  pictures,  in  the  midst  of  the  122  Doges,  we  remember  the 
frame  that  was  without  a  Doge,  only  the  bare  board  to  look  upon,  not 
even  a  name. 

Three  delightful  weeks  in  Venesia's  117  islands  (three  large  and  one 
hundred  and  fourteen  small  ones),  and  it  seems  that  almost  every  inch  of 
Russ  pavement  in  her  2,194  streets  from  six  to  twenty-five  feet  wide,  of 
her  297  squares,  of  her  387  bridges,  and  her  entire  circuit  of  seven  miles, 
all  this,  or  nearly  all,  must  have  been  wandered  and  wondered  over  by 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Horses  of  St.  Mark.    2.  Titian.    3.  Tomb  of  Canova.   4.  Tomb  of  Titian. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  137 

the  Three.  (The  strangest  sight  we  saw  in  that  locality  was  one  horse.) 
We  have  said  it  was  continued  sunshine  in  Venice,  and  so  it  was  ;  but  at 
the  parting  hour,  when  grief  always  dims  the  bright  luster  of  the  eyes 
we  love,  and  sorrow  clouds  the  brow  of  cherished  friends,  is  it  strange 
that  the  face  was  darkened  and  the  tears  were  just  ready  to  flow  ?  We 
could  have  wept  ourselves  as  we  bade  farewell  to  "  Beautiful  Venice,"  the 
Bride  of  the  Sea,  and  steamed  across  the  2  1-2  miles  of  railroad  whose 
foundations  seemed  to  be  sliding  into  the  deep.  Once  again  we  stood 
upon  terra  firma.  New  faces  and  new  scenes  are  all  powerful  in  driving 
sadness  from  the  heart,  when  it  is  not  deep-seated,  and  in  a  comfortable 
frame  of  mind  we  arrived  at  the  depot  outsides  of  the  walls  of  Padua. 

There,  before  that  triangular  city,  the  mind  seemed  lost  in  the  midst 
of  ages,  going  back  even  to  the  destruction  of  Troy,  when  Antinor,  the 
brother-in-law  of  Priam  is  said  to  have  founded  Patavium  (Padua);  coming 
up  through  the  darker  days  when  barbarous  hordes  held  sway  under 
Alaric  and  Attila,  and  on  through  the  brighter  age  of  Charlemagne,  up 
to  the  time  when  the  princes  of  Carrara  ruled  and  reigned  therein.  In- 
tensely interesting  was  the  oldest  city  in  northern  Italy  —  interesting 
with  its  narrow,  crowded  streets,  its  long  lines  of  arcades,  which  leave 
one  almost  in  doubt  whether  he  is  walking  within  doors  or  without ;  its 
university  so  celebrated  just  at  the  dawn  of  literature  after  the  sombre 
Middle  Ages,  when  scores  of  names  were  enrolled  in  the  book  of  fame 
by  the  side  of  Dante,  Petrarch  and  Harvey  ;  its  hundred  churches  —  San 
Giustina,  with  the  tombs  of  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke,  and  moreover, 
the  remains  of  three  thousand  martyrs  down  in  the  depths  where  a  light 
is  kept  constantly  burning  and  where  we  were  invited  to  cast  our  eye  ; 
St.  Antonio,  magnificent  beyond  description,  with  its  eight  ponderous 
domes  overhead  and  the  great  bronze  crucifix  of  Donatello  in  its  presby- 
tery ;  Eremitani,  which  contains  all  that  is  left  of  the  princes  of  Carrara, 
the  lords  of  Padua,  the  tombs  of  two  of  their  number  ;  the  Piazza  Vit- 
18 


138  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

toria  Emanuel,  the  only  public  promenade,  with  its  encircling  stream  of 
water  and  two  rows  of  statues  representing  Padua's  celebrated  sons ; 
Botanic  Garden,  the  most  ancient  in  Europe,  and  the  house,  bearing 
record  that  it  received  Dante  when  he  was  exiled  from  Florence.  Does 
one  doubt  that  all  this  and  much  more  renders  Padua  interesting  in  the 
extreme  ? 

But  we  visited  Padua  especially  to  look  through  the  eyes  of  an  artist 
friend  at  a  famous  little  chapel  constructed  and  ornamented  for  princes 
by  the  hand  of  one  who  then  was  young  but  afterwards  became  famous 
and  still  lives  in  the  hearts  of  appreciating  admirers  although  centuries 
have  passed  away — Giotto.  We  found  this  chapel  where  we  never 
should  have  thought  of  looking  for  anything  beautiful,  surrounded  by 
other  buildings  and  behind  an  old  high  gate,  at  which  our  guide  rang  for 
admission.  We  tried  to  look  with  an  artist's  eye,  but  we  shall  not 
attempt  to  use  an  artist's  pen  in  description,  but  shall  refer  our  friends 
to  Murray's  account  of  this  wonderful  Giotto's  chapel,  and  we  shall  go  on 
to  places  which  are  perhaps  less  interesting  but  easier  to  describe,  only 
saying  that  Dante  was  the  artist's  friend,  and  that  he  was  with  Giotto 
during  the  work  and  probably  suggested  many  points.  The  statues  of 
the  two  friends  stand  side  by  side  in  front  of  one  of  the  halls  of  Padua. 

After  two  days  at  Padua  we  resumed  the  line  of  travel,  taking  cars  for 
Bologna  and  passing  the  birthplace  of  Livy,  the  home  and  burial  place 
of  Petrarch,  also  the  very  ancient  town  of  Adria,  which  gave  its  name  to 
the  Adriatic  Sea,  but  which  is  now  far  from  the  harbors  of  those  waters  ; 
and  other  places  interesting  for  their  associations  in  art  and  literature. 

Having  arrived  at  Bologna  in  the  dark  hours  of  a  winter  evening, 
(Italian  winter)  the  first  care  was  for  bodily  rest  and  then  in  the  morning 
for  Bologna  sausages  of  course,  followed  by  a  survey  of  the  town.  An- 
other old  city  is  before  us,  which  was  founded  by  the  Etruscans  and 
called  Felsina,  conquered  by  the  Greeks  and  named  Bononia,  (old  coins 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  139 

bear  the  words  "  Bononia  dreit,")  united  to  the  possessions  of  Hannibal, 
and  converted  into  a  Roman  colony,  all  many  years  before  Christ.  We 
have  said  it  was  Italian  winter  time,  and  so  it  was  ;  for  when  we  left  our 
hotel  by  the  side  of  the  depot  and  entered  the  walls,  the  mist  and  fog 
shrouded  everything,  and  gave  it  a  very  uncertain  aspect,  so  that  we  could 
•  well  believe  and  realize  that  its  foundations  were  laid  deep  in  the  ages  of 
the  past,  its  walls  were  reared  in  days  that  were  dark,  and  its  towers 
were  in  the  mists  of  time. 

But  mist  and  fog  did  not  prevent  our  walking  in  the  boasted  University, 
almost  the  oldest  in  the  world,  where  ten  thousand  students  were  at  one 
time  assembled,  where  the  anatomy  of  the  human  frame  was  first  taught, 
and  galvanism  was  discovered  by  Galvani,  and  where  numbers  of  our  own 
sex  have  occupied  the  professors'  chairs,  one  of  them  so  beautiful  that  she 
must  needs  lecture  behind  curtains  that  she  might  not  distract  the  sound 
minds  or  turn  the  stern  hearts  of  her  listeners  of  the  opposite  sex.  Won- 
der of  wonders !  beautiful  and  learned,  and  a  woman  ! 

We  were  not  hindered  from  visiting  several  of  the  one  hundred  and 
ninety  churches,  a  way  which  we  soon  learned  by  the  attracting  (not 
attractive)  cries  of  coachmen  and  guides.  The  most  interesting  one  is 
St.  Petronius,  which  was  intended  to  be  the  largest  church  in  the  world, 
but  lacks  the  honor,  owing  to  its  still  unfinished  condition,  and  which 
contains  the  head  of  St.  Petronius  in  a  silver  vase  ;  St.  Dominius,  founded 
by  that  saint,  who  was  also  the  founder  of  the  Dominican  order  of  monks, 
and  containing  the  tomb  of  the  saint  crowned  by  a  statue  of  the  same 
from  the  hands  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  beautified  by  an  exquisite  little 
angel  of  white  marble,  wrought  by  the  chisel  of  this  master  sculptor, 
(this  church  also  contains  the  tomb  of  Guido  Reni) ;  and  St.  Stefano 
most  curious  of  all,  a  pile  of  seven  different  churches  constructed  at  dif- 
ferent periods  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  temple  of  Isis,  built  on  different 
levels  and  fitted  up  according  to  the  time  of  their  erection  ;  among  these, 


I4O  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

the  round  church  of  St.  Petronius  containing  the  body  of  that  saint  with- 
out his  head,  is  modeled  after  the  Holy  Sepulcher ;  the  second  contains 
a  model  of  the  vase  in  which  Peter  washed  his  hands  and  the  cock  which 
crowed  three  times,  and  in  the  crypt  is  a  pillar  which  is  just  the  height 
of  Christ. 

The  fogs  did  not  obscure  the  brilliancy  of  the  pictures  in  the  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts,  where  were  displayed  many  of  the  productions  of  the  artists 
whose  home  has  been  in  this  city,  but  whose  fame  has  spread  through  all 
cities  —  the  Caracci,  Francia  and  Guido  Reni.  One  of  the  latter  was 
specially  interesting,  as  it  brought  to  mind  a  tale  which  is  told  concern- 
ing it,  which  is  somewhat  after  this  sort : — The  master  was  painting  the 
crucifixion  with  his  model  before  him  bound  to  the  cross,  and  in  the 
frenzy  of  the  moment  the  knife  was  sent  to  the  heart  of  the  victim,  that 
the  death  agony  might  be  faithfully  portrayed  on  the  brow  of  Christ.  The 
artist  fled  after  the  task  was  done,  leaving  his  work  to  find  him  out,  which 
it  did  after  a  few  days ;  for  years  Guido  Reni  was  an  exile,  but  his  fame 
procured  his  pardon,  and  Bologna  and  the  world  honor  the  artist,  although 
a  murderer. 

Neither  fog,  nor  mist,  nor  cloud  prevented  our  ascending  the  leaning 
tower  of  Asinelli,  immortalized  by  Dante's  likening  a  well-known  prince 
in  the  infernal  regions  to  this  tower  with  its  leaning  summit  enveloped  in 
clouds.  Around  and  around  within  this  dark  wall  of  brick,  with  no  par- 
ticular order  to  the  arrangement  or  length  of  the  447  steps,  having  no 
inner  wall  like  most  of  the  high  places  we  ascend,  only  a  railing  which  is 
enough  to  prevent  the  climber  from  going  down  into  the  dark  open  space, 
preceded  by  a  boy  who  lighted  a  match  every  few  steps  to  illuminate  a 
little,  up  we  go  to  the  very  summit  and  out  into  the  open  air  for  a  view 
of  the  city.  But  here  the  fog  and  the  mist  are  all  powerful  to  blind  our 
eyes,  and  not  an  object  can  we  trace  except  the  roofs  so  close  to  our 
feet  that  were  we  on  a  level  with  them  we  could  touch  them  with  our  very 
hands.  There  comes  to  mind  the  familiar  lines, 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  14! 

"  Hearts  are  broken,  hearts  are  turned 
With  castles  in  the  air," 

and  we  think  how  many  times  in  life  we  have  been  lured  to  some  eminence 
by  brilliant  castles  in  the  air,  but  have  turned  back  with  hearts  almost 
crushed  with  sad  disappointment.  Time  will  tell  us  how  the  leaning 
tower  of  Bologna  compares  with  the  one  of  which  more  frequent  mention 
is  made,  in  the  land  of  Pisa,  whither  we  are  journeying. 


FLORENCE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

E  turn  our  course  toward  the  "  Fairest  city  on  earth,"  the 
"Athens  of  modern  Italy."  Who  does  not  know  what  city 
is  thus  honored  with  appellations  of  great  promise  to  the 
traveler  ?  Florence,  fair  flower  of  the  garden  of  Italia !  On 
Christmas  day,  1873,  we  entered  her  limits.  Truly  she  is  fair, 
for  this  land  of  age  and  tumults  ;  fair  for  this  country  where  the  blossoms 
of  peace  are  so  frequently  trodden  under  foot  by  the  mailed  heel  of  the 
warrior  ;  fair,  indeed,  for  any  land  or  age  or  time.  The  first  form  which 
the  eye  can  distinguish  is  that  dome  of  domes,  the  largest  in  the  world, 
towering  high  over  the  entire  city,  and  admitting  the  rays  of  light  upon 
the  tombs  of  two  of  its  architects  —  Giotto  and  Brunelleschi. 
We  can  easily  trace  the  "  Golden  Arno  as  it  shoots  away 

Thro'  Florence's  heart,  beneath  the  bridges  four ; 
Bent  bridges,  seeming  to  strain  off  like  bows, 

And  tremble  while  the  arrowy  undertide 
Shoots  on,  and  cleaves  the  marble  as  it  goes, 

And  strikes  up  palace  walls  on  either  side." 

The  Arno,  silver  stream  of  interest  that  it  is,  flows  the  entire  length, 
enriching  its  fair  possessor  with  its  liquid  wealth,  calling  to  mind  the  most 
powerful  picture  we  met  in  our  travels,  called  "  Bathing  in  the  Arno." 
A  number  of  soldiers  were  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  bath,  when,  alarmed 
by  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  the  fright  and  the  hurry  and  the  con- 
fusion which  were  apparent  in  the  faces  and  positions  of  the  nude  bodies 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  143 

will  always  be  suggested  by  the  river  Arno.  Six  bridges  cross  its  waters, 
over  the  oldest  of  which  six  centuries  have  glided  as  the  currents  have 
glided  beneath  its  arches,  and  neither  time  nor  floods  have  availed  to  re- 
move its  foundations  as  they  have  those  of  the  remaining  three  con- 
structed in  the  same  manner. 

There  are  two  suspension  bridges  of  modern  date.  One  of  the  bridges, 
the  Ponte  alia  Carraja,  was  broken  down  in  a  fire  in  1314,  and  from  the 
terrible  struggles  of  the  drowning  in  the  floods,  Dante  conceived  his 
idea  of  the  Inferno  (which,  by  the  way,  was  read  with  great  interest  by 
the  Three  while  in  the  city  of  Florence).  But  the  most  curious  and  most 
interesting  of  these  bridges  is  the  Ponte  Veechio  (Old  Bridge)  or  Jeweler's 
Bridge.  It  is  lined  by  shops  of  jewelers  and  goldsmiths  and  other  workers 
in  metal ;  above  these  shops  is  a  gallery  connecting  the  Uffizi  Gallery 
and  the  Pitti  Palace,  which,  although  inferior  in  extent  to  those  of  the 
Vatican  and  the  Louvre,  are  probably  the  richest  galleries  of  art  in 
the  world.  This  has  been  called  "  most  melodramatic  of  passages."  In 
following  us  through  these  galleries  and  halls  our  friends  must  sharpen 
their  imaginations  to  the  keenest  point  and  then  expect  to  fall  far  short 
of  the  beautiful  reality  which  our  eyes  looked  upon  in  the  three  long  cor- 
ridors, two  430  feet  each,  one  97  feet,  and  in  the  side  cabinets  and  halls 
numbering  22,  where  the  ceilings  were  frescoed,  and  there  were  ancient 
busts  of  eminent  men,  sarcophagi,  statues  and  bronzes,  medals,  inscrip- 
tions, antiquities,  vases  and  paintings,  portraits  of  300  painters  executed 
by  themselves,  and  a  most  splendid  cabinet  of  gems. 

We  commenced  in  the  Pitti  Palace  (the  production  of  Lucca  Pitti  who 
strove  to  outbuild  his  enemy  Strozzi)  and  many  times  we  lost  ourselves 
in  these  ages  of  the  past,  for  we  were  in  the  halls  of  Mars,  Saturn  and 
Jupiter,  and  Appolla,  Venus,  the  Iliad,  and  we  were  in  the  presence  of 
the  spirits  of  the  past  whose  productions  make  this  city  a  place  of  resort 
for  artists  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  Here  was  the  Venus  de  Medici, 


144  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

"  chef  d  'oeuvre  of  art,  the  beau  ideal  of  beauty,  the  wonder  of  the  world  ;" 
it  was  found  in  Adrain's  villa  at  Tivoli,  and  generally  attributed  to  Praxi- 
tiles  2,200  years  ago,  but  according  to  the  inscription  on  the  base  is  the 
work  of  .Cleomene,  an  Athenian.  Here  too  was  the  Venus  of  Canova 
with  a  light  drapery  thrown  around  her,  which  instead  of  concealing 
heightens  her  charms  ;  and  the  Venus  of  the  Bath,  very  properly  occupy- 
ing une  petite  chambre  all  by  herself,  except  as  the  living  curious  step  in 
to  gaze  and  admire  where  everything  is  pure  and  white  and  delicate  (it  is 
no  place  for  false  modesty).  The  Madonnas  were  all  about  us  —  Raphael's 
Madonna  of  the  Chair,  which  is  found  in  almost  all  parlors  of  our  Amer- 
ican homes,  and  the  manifold  madonnas  of  nearly  every  artist  of  note,  for 
each  one  had  several,  but  Correggio's  kneeling  madonna  was  sweetest  of 
them  all,  to  our  unartistic  eyes,  in  the  motherly  pride  and  joy  over  her 
baby  boy.  From  the  walls  looked  down  the  Beggar  Boys  of  Murillo,  with 
eyes  which  almost  brought  the  soldi  from  our  pockets,  the  Four  Philoso- 
phers of  Rubens,  and  the  Three  Fates  of  Michael  Angelo,  so  intent  upon 
their  work  that  we  felt  our  thread  of  life  slowly  and  surely  drawn  out  and 
spun,  and  almost  expected  to  see  it  clipped  short  by  the  scissors  of  the 
stern  sister. 

Not  the  least  interesting  among  the  curiosities  of  these  galleries  were 
the  pen  and  ink  sketches  of  the  celebrated  artists,  composed  of  a  selec- 
tion from  the  33,000  belonging  to  the  gallery,  the  most  remarkable  being 
thirty-seven  original  drawings  from  the  hand  of  the  master  artist  Raphael. 
There  were  specimens  too  of  the  work  called  pictra  dura,  a  mosaic  which 
instead  of  being  wrought  and  shaded  with  painted  glass,  is  wrought  in  a 
tablet  of  slate  and  marble  with  precious  stones  of  the  natural  color, 
the  only  manufacture  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  One  table  employed 


ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Ponte  Veechio,  Old  Bridge,  over  the  Arno.  2.  Dante,  Tasso,  Petriarco 
and  Aristo,  crowned  with  laurel.  3.  Corregio's  Madonna.  5.  Savanarola.  Galileo.  6.  Fresch 
in  Giotto's  Chapel  at  Padua. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  145 

twelve  persons  eight  years,  and  cost  20,000  crowns.  We  came  out  through 
the  fine  portico  of  the  Uffizi  adorned  with  twenty-eight  modern  statues 
of  celebrated  ancients  Giotto,  Dante,  Petrarch,  Americus  Vespucius, 
Michael  Angelo,  &c. 

From  the  Piazza  Santa  Marie  del  Flora,  rises  that  largest  of  domes,  or 
broadest  at  least,  which  served  M.  Angelo  as  a  model  for  St.  Peter,  and 
by  its  side  stands  the  Campanile,  rising  "  like  a  perplexed  fine  question 
heavenward  ;"  the  walls  of  this  bell-tower  are  of  black  and  red  polished 
marble,  (those  of  the  church  are  black  and  white)  and  are  embellished 
with  more  carving  than  most  cities  have  within  their  limits  ;  it  was  de- 
signed by  Giotto  in  1334. 

Upon  one  of  its  six  bells  are  the  arms  of  the  family  so  closely  con- 
nected with  the  history  of  this  city  —  the  Medici ;  another  called  the 
Misercordia  was  so  named  because  it  was  rung  when  the  services  of  that 
brotherhood,  (which  had  an  existence  for  600  years)  were  needed.  Close 
at  hand  is  the  Baptistry,  which  was  built  in  the  seventh  century  from  the 
materials  of  an  ancient  pagan  temple,  —  an  octagonal  building  which  has 
been  made  an  object  of  wonder  by  the  wonderful  doors,  which  the  won- 
derful artist  said  were  worthy  to  be  the  doors  of  paradise.  We  stood 
before  them  many  times  and  admired  them  beyond  expression,  and  yet 
we  prefer  to  imagine  that  the  entrance  into  paradise  is  through  a  brighter, 
lighter  gate  at  least. 

On  the  same  Piazza  stand  the  statues  of  two  of  the  architects  of  this 
world-renowned  cathedral  —  Arnolfi  and  Brunelleschi. 

Near  by,  a  stone  in  the  wall  bears  the  words,  "  Sasso  di  Dante,"  mark- 
ing the  spot  where  the  immortal  poet  sat  and  watched  the  work,  and  en- 
couraged his  friends  while  rearing  the  disputed  dome.  We  felt  like  fol- 
lowing the  example  of  the  little  one  of  our  party,  sitting  against  this  seat 
in  the  wall  to  see  if  the  spirit  of  the  writer  would  not  descend  upon  us. 

Santa  Croce,  the  Italian  Pantheon,  is  interesting  for  the  tombs  of  the 


146  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

great  men  who  are  buried  here.  Here  lies  the  most  illustrious  of  Flor- 
entines and  one  of  the  most  variously  accomplished  men  that  ever  lived 
—  Michael  Angelo,  the  painter,  sculptor,  poet,  architect  and  engineer. 
Well  may  Sculpture,  Architecture  and  Painting  sit  mourning  over  his 
remains.  He  died  at  Rome  in  1563,  but  was  brought  to  his  native  place 
and  buried  in  the  spot  chosen  by  himself,  so  that  when  the  doors  are 
open  he  might  be  in  sight  of  the  dome  of  the  cathedral,  the  delight  of  his 
life.  Near  by  is  the  tomb  of  Galileo,  the  great  astronomer,  and  also  the 
tomb  of  Dante, "  father  of  Italian  poetry  and  advocate  of  Italian  liberty," 
but  his  body  is  kept  out  of  the  reach  of  the  city  which  so  unjustly  ban- 
ished the  Divine  Poet.  The  ages  are  here  brought  together  by  works 
of  different  kinds,  from  that  of  Cimabue,  the  old,  old  painter,  and  Giotto, 
almost  as  ancient,  to  the  struggle  of  the  Italians  for  independence  in 
1848.  (Two  bronze  tables  bear  the  names  of  the  Tuscans  who  died 
defending  their  land.)  Pius  IX.  laid  the  foundation  stone  of  the  marble 
facade  in  1857,  and  almost  down  to  the  present  time  (1865)  Dante  was 
given  his  proper  place  and  his  statue  erected  to  guard  the  resting-place 
of  Italy's  noblemen. 

But  the  finest  of  all  the  truly  exquisite  work  in  the  beautiful  city 
of  Florence  is  the  Medicean  Chapel.  It  was  planned  by  one  of  the 
Medici  to  receive  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  but  as  they  failed  to  obtain  pos- 
session of  the  latter,  they  made  use  of  the  chapel  for  a  family  vault.  It 
contains  most  magnificent  work  in  marbles  and  precious  stones,  and 
if  their  palaces  while  living  compared  favorably  with  those  they  occupy 
after  death,  we  wonder  not  that  one  of  them  at  least  acquired  the  title 
of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent. 

In  the  centre  of  Florence  is  the  Piazza  della  Signoria,  which  takes 
precedence  over  all  the  other  public  squares  for  importance  and  antiquity, 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Cathedral  Duomo.  2.  Michael  Angelo.  3.  Cathedral  Santa  Croce.  4. 
M.  Augelo's  Three  .Fates.  5.  Monument  to  Dante.  6.  Tomb  of  Michael  Angelo, 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  147 

and  the  principal  edifice  is  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  rightly  named  the  Old 
Palace,  for  it  dates  from  the  year  1298.  It  resembles  a  fortress  rather 
than  a  palace,  and  its  peculiar  tower  becomes  a  familiar  object,  seen  as  it 
is  frofn  every  part  of  the  city  and  surrounding  country.  The  bell  of  this 
palace  was  used  to  call  the  people  to  the  public  meetings  ;  the  palace 
itself  was  the  seat  of  the  Signoria  of  Florence.  The  Loggia  is  a  sort 
of  arcade,  built  in  1355  as  a  place  for  the  magistrates  when  they  wished 
to  assemble  the  people.  It  is  ornamented  with  several  fine  pieces 
of  sculpture. 

The  Piazza  della  Signoria  is  doubly  interesting  from  the  fact  that  it 
was  here  that  Savanarola,  the  Dominican  monk,  "  stood  among  the  ages, 
orphan  of  the  old,  prophet  of  the  new,  like  Noah  among  the  worlds 
of  God  ; "  here  he  endured  the  terrible  torture  of  the  hoisting  rope,  and 
gave  his  name  to  coming  ages  as  a  martyr  for  the  church.  We  recall 
the  description  of  this  celebrated  man  by  Mrs.  Stowe :  —  "He  was 
of  middle  age,  of  elastic,  well-knit  figure,  and  a  flexibility  and  grace 
of  motion  which  seemed  to  wake  every  nerve.  The  close-shaven  crown 
and  the  plain  white  Dominican  robe  gave  a  severe  and  statuesque  sim- 
plicity to  the  form  of  his  figure.  His  low,  broad  forehead,  prominent 
Roman  nose,  well-cut  yet  fully  outlined  lips,  and  strong,  finely  moulded 
jaw  and  chin,  all  spoke  the  old  Roman  vigor  and  energy,  while  the  flex- 
ible delicacy  of  all  the  muscles  of  his  face  and  figure  gave  an  inexpress- 
ible fascination  to  his  appearance.  Every  emotion  and  changing  thought 
seemed  to  flutter  and  tremble  over  his  countenance  as  the  shadow 
of  leaves  over  sunny  water.  His  eye  had  a  wonderful  dilating  power, 
and  his  voice  possessed  a  surprising  scale  of  delicate  and  melodious 
inflections." 

Florence  is  truly  the  flower  of  Italian  cities  —  neat,  airy,  and,  most 
wonderful  of  all,  has  but  few  beggars.  The  surroundings  seem  to  elevate 
all  persons  above  the  degradation  which  is  so  common  in  this  country, 


148  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

and  we  could  walk  a  few  steps  here  without  witnessing  some  disgusting 
sight  or  hearing  some  distressing  sound.  The  environs  are  enchanting. 
Fancy  us  walking  in  a  bright  sun  over  one  of  the  bridges,  through  the 
old  town,  and  out  from  one  of  the  gates  into  the  country.  We  confess 
that  we  did  shiver  a  little  with  the  cold,  or  perhaps  it  was  trembling  with 
fear  lest  Winter  should  overtake  us  in  our  flight  even  now,  for  we  saw 
some  ice  in  the  classic  river  and  a  good  many  snow-capped  hills  not  very 
far  away ;  but  then,  just  at  hand,  as  we  walked  toward  the  town  where 
Galileo  made  his  observations  while  he  had  eyes  to  see  the  heavenly 
bodies,  were  green  bushes,  bearing  with  the  leaves  both  the  flower  and 
fruit.  We  said,  "  Surely  Winter  cannot  come  where  Nature  develops  in 
this  way,"  and  Winter  did  not  come.  We  saw  the  snow  only  on  the  hill- 
tops, as  we  had  seen  it  all  the  past  Summer.  On  New  Year's  Day  the 
scene  was  brighter  still.  Two  miles'  walk  by  the  side  of  the  Arno  to 
the  Cascine  —  the  most  beautiful  walk  and  drive  in  the  world,  they  say. 
Oh,  how  lovely !  Streams  of  equipages,  crowds  of  people  everywhere  in 
the  bright,  warm  sun.  The  heights  of  Fiesole  we  ascended,  the  city 
which  was  old  when  Florence  was  young ;  where  the  olive  trees  lined 
the  walls  rising  one  above  the  other,  and  the  old  palaces  stood  as  they 
have  done  so  many,  many  years  ;  and  where,  once  upon  a  time,  Milton, 
afterwards  the  blind  poet  who  saw  Paradise  Lost  with  the  eyes  of  the 
inner  man,  met  Galileo,  the  blind  astronomer,  who  saw  the  earth  revolve 
although  the  world  was  blind  to  the  fact.  What  a  meeting,  and  what  a 
place  to  meet  in !  They  were  truly  examples  of  the  blind  leading  the 
blind,  and  after  more  than  three  centuries  the  world  has  at  length 
learned  to  regard  them  aright,  and  to-day  thinks  more  of  the  finger 
of  Galileo,  preserved  in  spirits  and  shown  among  the  treasures  of  the 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  —  1.  Podcsta  Palace.  2.  Bell-tower  of  the  Dtiomo.  3.  Strozzi  Palace. 
4.  Stairway.  5.  Baptistery.  6.  Palazzo  Vecchio  (Old  Palace).  7.  Loggia.  8.  Bronze  doors 
of  Baptistery.  9.  Riccardi  Palace. 


Loggia  dei    Lanzi 


Palazzo  Riccardi 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  149 

city,  than  it  did,  in  the  days  when  he  advanced  unwelcome  truths,  of  the 
noble  body  with  its  undying  mind. 

Florence  combines  much  that  is  old  with  the  beautiful  and  artistic,  and 
we  left  her,  saying :  "  Joy,  Florence,  that  thou  art  so  great ;  that  over 
land  and  sea  thou  beatest  thy  wings." 

From  Florence  to  Pisa  in  two  and  a  half  hours,  where  the  Leaning 
Tower  never  ceases  to  be  an  attraction,  thence  to  Leghorn  (where  we 
called  upon  numerous  straw-braiders  but  brought  away  little  leghorn,) 
out  through  a  long  canal  to  the  steamer  in  the  Mediterranean,  to  try  the 
waters  which  are  so  often  called  treacherous.  We  cannot  say  they  have 
been  justly  so  called  for  we  slept  an  entire  night,  sailed  peacefully  along 
the  borders  of  Italy,  (so  far  away  however  that  only  mountain  peaks 
appeared  in  sight)  enjoyed  a  day  of  quiet  and  calm  upon  the  blue  waters, 
again  slept  and  our  eyes  opened  upon  the  City  of  Naples. 


NAPLES. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

OW  we  are  to  tell  you  of  that  "  Fragment  of  heaven  to 
earth  vouchsafed,"  and  more  than  ever  we  long  for  the  poet's 
pen  and  the  artist's  brush,  for  words  can  hardly  bring  this  land- 
scape before  you  as  the  flowing  musical  lines  of  verse  or  the 
soft  mellow  tints  in  the  painter's  hand.  We  fear  you  will 
not  see  this  grand  panorama  of  land  and  sea,  water  and  sky, 
bay  and  mountain,  strait  and  plain,  ship  and  fort,  all  bathed  in  melting 
light ;  nor  imagine  the  far-away  aspect,  the  dreamy  haze,  the  distant 
liquid  light.  Do  you  see  this  noble  Bay  of  Naples  presenting  its  quiet 
waters  to  the  storm-tossed  ships  of  the  Mediterranean,  holding  many 
miniature  bays  in  its  graceful  curves,  offering  an  asylum  to  the  fleeing 
and  the  pursued  on  the  islands  which  rise  up  like  the  gourd  in  a  night 
and  bidding  defiance  to  invading  foe  by  raising  its  forts  on  peak  and 
point  and  manning  its  castles  with  sinew  and  strength  —  one  grand  curve 
of  thirty-five  miles,  beautifully,  gracefully  divided  into  lesser  curves ! 
And  where  does  this  city  begin  or  end,  either  in  time  or  in  space ! 
Stretching  back  from  all  these  small  harbors  which  form  the  one  great 
harbor,  up  to  the  summits  which  smile  in  perpetual  summer,  from  point 
to  point  in  almost  continuous  line  the  dwellings  of  man  rise  to  view  and 
the  earth  teems  with  life. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Bay  of  Naples  with  Vesuvius  in  the  distance.  2.  Grotto  of  Posilippo 
near  the  summit  of  which  is  the  Tomb  of  Virgil.  3.  A  Naples  load,  4,  Lava  bed.  5.  Naples 
costume  and  employment. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  151 

With  what  suddenness  the  heavenly  view  vanishes  from  sight  and  how 
quickly  a  gross  and  disgusting  and  earthly  one  takes  its  place !  For 
nearly  three  thousand  years  this  city  has  been  rising,  extending  and 
growing,  varied  with  occasional  times  of  falling,  lessening  and  diminish- 
ing, changing  its  point  of  interest  from  one  locality  to  another,  taking 
one  name  after  another  according  to  the  whim  of  the  conqueror,  marking 
all  the  eras  of  time  by  its  buildings  and  its  ruins.  Only  one  city  in  our 
United  States  is  its  equal  in  population,  and  perhaps  not  one  in  the 
world  is  equal  in  the  filth  and  squalor  of  its  inhabitants.  Imagine 
your  rag-bags  walking  from  their  corners  with  their  contents  displayed 
in  the  most  glaring  manner,  your  "  Dinah  and  kitchens  ".  set  out  upon 
the  streets,  and  all  the  culinary  operations  performed  in  the  sight  of  the 
world  —  frying,  boiling,  roasting,  baking  —  the  public  thoroughfare  a 
pantry  and  a  dining-room  from  early  dawn  until  the  hour  of  midnight, — 
we  could  not  take  oath  that  it  is  not  the  sole  resting  place  of  multitudes 
who  swarm  there  constantly.  The  little  furry  animal  which  bears  most 
of  the  burdens  of  this  country,  whose  hair  as  a  general  thing  turns  in  the 
wrong  direction  if  it  is  not  all  worn  off  his  skin,  and  whose  ears  are  by 
far  the  most  prominent  feature  —  this  small  animal  provokes  incessant 
cracks  of  the  whip,  and  grunts  which  can  only  be  likened  to  the  sound 
one  naturally  makes  when  deprived  of  a  tooth.  Then  the  bugs  —  how 
can  man  or  beast  live  here  when  the  winter  days  are  over,  for  the  creep- 
ing creatures  are  very  active  in  these  coldest  days  of  the  year  ?  Another 
annoyance,  yes,  two  of  them,  is  everywhere  met  in  these  thronged  streets 
—  the  persistency  of  cab-drivers  in  trying  to  make  everybody  think  that 
it  is  their  duty  to  patronize  the  voitures,  and  the  other  one  which  we 
have  previously  mentioned  —  asking  for  alms.  We  have  been  almost 
near  enough  to  Victor  Emanuel  to  present  our  petition  in  person  that  he 
shall  give  the  beggars  a  separate  street  in  which  to  walk,  but  we  let  the 
opportunity  pass,  so  we  must  see  the  sights  of  this  busy,  interesting 


152  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

ancient  city  with  the  sound  of  wailing  in  our  ears  and  the  scenes  of  woe 
before  our  eyes. 

To  readers  of  classical  literature  —  Caesar,  Virgil,  Cicero,  Horace  and 
Lrvy  —  on  one  of  these  mornings,  when  air  and  earth  and  sky  all  present 
a  gilded  radiance,  which  is  transmitted  to  every  visible  object,  making 
them  seem  "  so  near  and  yet  so  far,"  we  go  forth  in  the  warm  sunlight,  to 
the  sea,  whose  surges  beat  upon  soil  trod  by  heroes  of  old,  and  let  our 
thoughts  go  out  upon  the  sea  of  Time  to  the  shades  of  the  departed, 
calling  up  their  names  to  people  these  realms  if  but  for  a  passing  moment. 
Musing,  pondering,  dreaming,  we  saunter  through  the  streets  of  Neapo- 
lis,  (new  city)  founded  by  the  Greeks  nearly  three  thousand  years  ago, 
and  reach  the  portion  whose  foundations  we  may  well  say  were  laid  quite 
three  thousand  years  ago,  so  nearly  that  this  number  of  years  marks  its 
age — Paleopelis,  (old  city)  which  lies  from  hence  to  the  summit  of 
Posilippo. 

First  and  foremost  among  the  shadowy  spirits  whose  presence  we 
invoked,  is  that  of  the  Mantuan  bard,  who  wrote  his  own  epitaph  in  the 
following  words  :  —  "  Mantua  me  genuit,  Calabri  rapuere,  tenet  mine  Par- 
thenope.  Cecini  pascua,  rura,  duces"  If  Virgil  could  make  the  hero  of 
his  poem  descend  into  the  infernal  regions  while  he  yet  dwelt  in  the 
mortal  frame,  might  not  the  poet  come  back  to  us  when  clothed  with 
immortality  ?  On  these  heights  he  once  dwelt ;  here  he  wrote  "  Oh 
Muse,  relate  to  me  the  causes,"  and  here  was  that  wonderful  body  laid  ; 
wonderful  because  it  assisted  the  master-mind  to  work  nineteen  years 
before  the  Christian  era,  when  the  spirit  soared  into  upper  realms  to  try 
the  realities  of  the  other  world.  Are  any  of  you  curious  to  know  where 
the  dust  of  the  immortal  Virgil  lies  ?  In  the  part  of  Naples  once  called 
Parthenope,  Paleopolis,  Posilippo,  on  the  side  of  the  steep  eminence  Piz- 
zafalcone,  by  many  steps  winding  around  among  the  habitations  of  the 
living  and  the  dead  in  such  a  manner  that  a  guide  is  absolutely  necessary 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  153 

to  find  the  spot ;  under  a  clothes-line  hung  with  linen  made  yellow  by 
washing  ;  followed  closely  by  beggars  of  all  ages  anxious  to  do  something 
for  which  they  may  demand  a  few  centissimi  at  least ;  until  an  iron  gate 
is  reached,  and  an  old  man,  almost  too  feeble  to  hold  his  place  before  the 
eager  assistants  tugs  at  the  bell  with  trembling  hands,  and  when  the  gate 
is  opened  he  enters  with  the  favored  Three  as  the  one  who  has  obtained 
admission,  while  the  .rest  remain  without.  Curious  old  burying  place, 
Roman  coltimbarian,  where  the  few  graves  are  guarded  to  keep  their  places 
in  the  rocks.  Down  stone  steps  to  a  little  storm-chamber,  fifteen  feet 
square,  with  three  windows  and  a  vaulted  ceiling,  a  small  tablet  rises  to 
the  memory  of  him  whose  JEneid  is  by  far  his  most  enduring  monument. 
We  pluck  a  branch  of  delicate  evergreen,  which  perhaps  was  planted  by 
Petrarch,  perhaps  not,  but  which  certainly  grew  by  the  tomb  of  Virgil. 
Paying  our  entrance  fee  and  our  guide,  (who  demands  a  little  more  for 
being  a  "  bono  man  ")  the  woman  who  admitted  us,  and  the  old  man  who 
had  haunted  our  footsteps,  we  left  the  burial  place  of  the  poet  we  so 
much  admired  in  our  school  days,  and  shall  continue  to  admire  as  long 
as  sense  is  granted  unto  us. 

From  the  tomb  of  Virgil  we  retrace  our  steps,  and  at  the  base 
of  Posilippo  find  ourselves  confronting  a  tall,  dark  opening  in  the  moun- 
tain, which  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  spectral  excursion  we  have 
entered  upon.  Bare  gray  rocks  stare  upon  us  as  we  enter  the  Grotto 
which  superstition  says  was  constructed  by  the  wiles  of  the  poet  whose 
body  lies  within  the  rocks  above  it.  With  something  of  a  shiver  we 
step  within  the  vaulted  entrance,  ninety  feet  in  height,  and  with  brisk 
steps  begin  the  passage  through  the  mountain.  A  dim  light  hangs  upon 
the  wall  every  few  yards,  and  away  in  the  distance  we  can  discover  a 
little  of  the  light  of  heaven.  This  true  light  dispels  the  darkness  of  the 
scene,  and  we  walk  the  half-mile  assured  that  the  Emperor  Augustus 
caused  this  wonderful  work  to  be  performed,  and  that  during  all  these 
20 


154  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

eighteen  centuries  it  has  been  a  short  way  of  reaching  the  villages  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain. 

Again  we  are  in  the  midst  of  crowded  streets.  Buildings  that  look  as 
if  they  might  have  stood  since  the  year  one,  and  children  that  are  almost 
naked  enough  to  be  angels,  but  without  any  appearance  of  wings,  and 
with  many  signs  which  mark  them  as  fallen  angels,  if  angels  they  could 
be  called.  A  lovely  walk  of  four  and  one-half  miles,  on  roads  as  hard 
and  smooth  as  marble,  between  dark  evergreens  which,  in  our  geopraphies, 
used  to  look  like  giant  umbrellas,  and  which  have  not  lost  that  appear- 
ance now  that  we  look  upon  them  rising  from  their  native  soil.  Again 
the  road  skirts  the  seashore.  This  is  the  coast  which  the  poems  of  Ho- 
mer and  Virgil  invest  .with  living  interest;  these  are  the  realms  where 
civilization  first  gained  a  footing  on  Italian  soil ;  and  here  is  the  spot 
where  emperors  reared  their  villas  and  spent  their  days  in  luxury.  But 
where  are  the  princes  and  the  palaces  now  ?  They  tell  us  that  the  rocks 
stand  upon  a  fiery  foundation  ;  that  the  earth  swallows  up  the  labor 
of  multitudes  and  lifts  mountains  from  the  uncertain  sea ;  and  we  con- 
template these  rocks  with  awe  and  wonder.  Their  naked  sides  seem  to 
bear  inscriptions  made  by  the  hand  of  Time,  which  would  certainly  solve 
the  mystery  if  we  only  had  the  wisdom  to  decipher  the  hieroglyphics. 
The  light  of  day  is  almost  gone  as  we  enter  the  gate  of  an  old,  old  city, 
and  walk  through  crowds  which  look  as  though  they  would  like  to  devour 
us  were  it  not  for  the  warning  voice  of  the  guide  at  our  side.  Gladly  we 
enter  the  one  hotel,  and  soundly  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  honest,  although 
our  dreams  may  have  been  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  visions  of  the 
day  and  by  the  beating  of  the  blue  sea  upon  the  walls  of  our  building, 
creating  fancies  that  were  not  all  dreams  of  one  who,  although  a  prisoner, 
was  greater  than  we,  and  who  says,  in  the  book  of  books,  "  And  after 
one  day  the  south  wind  blew,  and  we  came  the  next  day  to  Puteoli."  This, 
then,  was  the  place  where  Paul  landed  ;  the  name  only  is  changed  a  little. 
Is  it  strange,  after  eighteen  hundred  years  ? 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  155 

Morning  dawned   upon  Pozzuoli  as  rosy  as  though  the  day  had  not 
come  and  gone  so  many  millions  of  times,  and  again  we  pursued  the 
phantoms  of  the  past.     With  a  little  guide  who  spoke  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  (mayhap  a  Mercury  sent  to  escort  the  Three,)  we  walked  in  the 
steps  of  the  eloquent  and   the  learned,  and  saw  what  remains  of  the 
orator  and  scholar  —  the  villa  of  Cicero.     In  imagination  we  heard  him 
rehearse  his  orations  to  the  waters  of  the  deep,  and  fancied  that  they 
borrowed  dignity  and  sublimity  from  the  rolling  waves.     Soon  Monte 
Nuovo  appeared  in  sight  —  the  mountain  which  was  born  in  a   single 
night ;  and  so  black  and  grim  it  rose  over  the  scene  that  we  felt  that  old 
Hercules,  with  shaggy  brow,  had  stationed  himself  here  to  guard  the 
narrow  strip  of  land  on  which,  it  is  said,  he  drove  the  bulls  of  Geryon 
across  the  swamp  —  the  Via  Herculea.     We  scarcely  dared  intrude  upon 
his  dominions,  but  we  crossed  with  safety  and  came  down  to  the  borders 
of  Lake  Avernus.     Down  deep  below  the  towering  mountains,  the  sum- 
mit of  whose  precipitous  banks  is  shaded  by  the  umbrageous  pines,  lies 
the  fabled  entrance  to  the  infernal  regions.     The  craters  are  sullen  and 
black,  and  the  neighboring  ravines  look  as  though  they  might  harbor  the 
ghostly  Cimmerii  which  Homer  mentions  in  his  Odyssey ;  but  we  are 
not  to  be  deterred  from  walking  around  the  borders  of  the  lake.     Down 
in  the  depths  we  see  ghastly  forms  extended ;   birds  rise  above  the 
waters,  but  soon  sink  into  the  abyss  below  ;  surely  this  is  what  we  used 
to  read  of  the  dismal  Lake  of  Avernus !     Here,  too,  is  the  very  spot 
where  the  Sibyl  led  ^Cneas  into  the  realms  below.     We  approach  the 
entrance  to  the  cave  of  the  Sibyl,  but  further  we  will  not  venture.     Once 
again  upon  the  borders  of  the  lake,  with  the  warm,  bright  sun  shining 
upon  our  pathway,  we  examine  more  closely  the  state  of  affairs.    Forms, 
not  so  ghastly,  sit  upon  the  stones  and  croak  in  the  sunligh^;  birds  rise 
over  the  water  and  settle  again,  because  they  can  live  upon  the  sea  as 
well  as  upon  the  land ;  even  the  fair  blossoms  of  Spring  seem  not  to 


156  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

loiter  in  their  coming,  for  the  taraxacum  (not  densleonis,  however)  lifts  its 
yellow  head  and  looks  very  familiarly  at  us,  one  of  the  campanulas  meekly 
rings  its  bell  before  us,  and  several  of  the  labiates  open  their  lips  as 
if  they  could  give  us  words  of  greeting  ;  the  ground  everywhere  is  car- 
peted with  the  delicate  candytuft,  which  grows  without  care  or  cultivation, 
and  the  variety  of  papilionacce  which  is  always  pleasant  to  the  eye 
because  it  promises  something  sweet  to  the  taste  when  the  fruit  in  the 
pod  shall  become  sufficiently  mature,  raises  its  blossoms  temptingly  and 
brings  the  water  to  our  lips  as  we  think  of  the  time  when  we  shall  sit  at 
the  table  and  eat  the  green  peas  at  the  Fourth  of  July  dinner  with  the 
loved  ones  at  home.  Thus  were  we  reasoning  to  ourselves,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  a  loud,  harsh  bark  sounded  close  to  our  ears,  followed  by  one  and 
another  till  we  clenched  our  fists  with  very  fright,  and  fully  believed  that 
this  was  the  genuine  Lake  Avernus,  and  that  the  three-headed  dog 
Cerberus,  which  guards  the  dark  regions,  had  been  let  loose  upon  our 
track.  Would  he  devour  us  ?  But  our  brave  little  guide  rushed  back 
with  stick  in  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  a  voice  was  heard,  and  when  we 
dared  to  turn  our  heads,  two  monstrous  hounds,  as  black  as  the  regions 
they  seemed  to  come  from,  were  creeping  back  to  their  master's  feet. 

We  will  not  extend  our  walk  to  the  famous  Bay  of  Baiae,  which  the 
odes  of  Horace  have  immortalized,  although  the  ancient  temples  of 
Minerva,  Venus  and  Diana  are  seen  in  their  fallen  grandeur,  and  the 
celebrated  hot  baths  of  the  infamous  Nero  are  still  at  a  boiling  tempera- 
ture, while  the  cruel  Emperor  has  been  cold  these  many  centuries  ;  nor 
to  Cape  Misino,  prominent  in  sea  and  sky,  although  this  was  the  point 
where  Caesar,  Pompey  and  Mark  Antony  met  to  divide  the  Roman 
empire,  and  the  point  also  where  the  fleet  of  Pliny  was  anchored  when 
he  met  his  cruel  fate  from  the  fires  of  Vesuvius ;  nor  to  Ormar,  the 
Elysian  Fields  of  Virgil,  where  he  consulted  the  oracle  before  descending 
into  Hades  in  search  of  his  father's  spirit,  although  it  was  here  that  the 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  157 

great  Scipio  breathed  his  last ;  but  we  will  return  by  the  spot  where 
stand  the  foundations  of  the  villa  of  Agrippina,  in  which  she  was 
destroyed  by  her  unnatural  son,  Nero,  back  to  Pozzuoli  to  visit  the 
amphitheatre,  noted  in  history,  where  Nero  and  Diocletian  entered  so 
prominently  into  the  scenes  enacted  during  their  licentious  lives,  and 
which  has  lain  hundreds  of  years  buried  in  the  lava  of  the  neighboring 
volcano  —  buried  in  the  oblivion  which  its  ignominy  deserves ;  to  visit 
also  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Serapis,  grand  in  its  ruins  as  it  was  famous 
in  its  magnificence. 

And  now  we  will  return  to  delightful  Naples,  passing  the  island, 
Nisida,  where  Brutus  fled  after  the  destruction  of  Caesar,  and  where  he 
bade  farewell  to  his  beloved  Portia  when  he  departed  for  the  battle 
of  Philippi,  —  all  the  way  by  the  beautiful  bay,  lined  with  multitudes, 
and  loaded  with  fruit  and  fish  and  vegetables. 

In  early  days  our  imagination  ran  riot  when  we  touched  upon  the 
topic  of  the  Sea  Horse,  and  we  fancied  him  an  immense  creature,  with 
head  of  horse  and  tail  of  fish,  and  furnished,  too,  with  the  wings  of  a 
bird,  so  that  while  his  home  was  in  the  sea,  he  would  not  scorn  a  contest 
with  the  dwellers  on  land  or  the  denizens  of  the  air,  and  nothing  would 
be  free  from  the  ravages  of  the  monster.  As  we  walked  by  the  Bay 
of  Naples  we  were  enabled  to  decide  how  true  a  picture  fancy  had 
painted  for  us  ;  for  a  ragged  little  Italian  boy  presented  several  speci- 
mens of  the  veritable  Sea  Horse  for  the  foreigners  to  purchase.  We 
gladly  availed  ourselves  of  the  opportunity,  and  put  into  our  sachel  the 
little  creature,  about  two  inches  in  length,  whose  photograph  we  give 
our  friends,  together  with  the  description  of  a  naturalist : — 

"  The  Sea  Horse,  when  taken  fresh  from  his  native  home,  though 
almost  laughably  grotesque,  is  a  very  pretty  creature.  Its  general  color 
is  ashen  gray  ;  at  first  glance,  an  exceedingly  sober  suit.  But  if  exam- 
ined more  closely,  it  will  be  found  thickly  studded  with  tiny  spangles 


158  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

of  metallic  silver.  Add  to  this  the  rich  armature  of  daintily  carved 
plates,  like  a  coat  of  mail,  its  body  always  partly  erect,  and,  bent  forward, 
it  looks  like  the  steed  of  a  knight-errant  in  quest  of  adventure.  Those 
pretty,  golden,  yet  queer  little  eyes,  chameleon-like,  independent  of  each 
other,  intently  gaze  two  ways  at  once.  Its  dorsal  fin  is,  in  nature,  an 
exquisite  fan,  in  form,  size  and  ornament  worthy  the  hand  of  Queen 
Mab.  As  we  look  at  his  equine  appearance,  and  think  of  his  monkey 
faculty,  (using  his  caudal  extremity,)  and  his  opossum  traits,  and  that 
queer  blending  of  innocent  oddity  with  patriarchal  dignity,  we  have  to 
accept  the  old  fisherman's  proverb,  '  There  is  nothing  on  the  land  that  is 
not  in  the  sea.' ' 

The  fairest,  most  lovely  of  all  the  days  in  the  year,  the  Indian  Summer 
days  in  America,  give  only  a  faint  idea  of  Naples,  even  in  these  mid- winter 
days.  The  first  view  from  our  window  upon  sea  and  sky  told  us  that  the 
weather-god  was  propitious,  and  we  hastily  prepared  for  the  proposed 
ascent.  At  about  the  centre  of  this  vast  city  a  carriage  took  up  the  wan- 
dering Three  and  bore  them  along  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  one  mile  after 
another,  out  through  an  ancient  gate  ;  still  on  through  the  busy,  crowded 
streets,  between  old  houses  overflowing  with  poverty  and  rags  :  on,  on, 
with  no  cessation  of  buildings  and  people,  for  four  miles  and  a  half,  when 
we  stopped  before  the  office  for  guides  and  horses  to  ascend  Vesuvius. 

Arrangements  were  soon  completed,  and  the  Three  went  into  the 
streets  of  Resina,  (the  name  had  changed  twice,  although  we  could  not 
see  why  it  was  not  all  Naples).  Two  mounted,  but  the  third  still  on  her 
own  footing,  two  men  to  attend  to  the  horses,  a  guide  for  the  party  and 
two  others  who  probably  knew  why  they  went,  but  we  did  not,  constituted 
the  company.  Out  through  narrow  lanes,  between  high  stone  walls,  in 
places  rather  unfavorable  for  observation,  in  patience  we  threaded  our 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  General  View  of  Pompeii.    2.  Frescoed  Wall.    3,  Sea  Horse.    4.  Fresco, 
"Cave  Canem." 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  159 

way,  for  we  should  soon  be  above  them  all.  In  time,  we  came  to  the  lava 
beds  of  different  years,  spread  out  to  view  in  the  colors  almost  of  the  rain- 
bow, although  perhaps  not  quite  so  bright,  wrought  into  forms  which  re- 
minded us  of  the  waves  of  the  ocean  when  a  brisk  gale  played  among  the 
waters.  What  a  power  had  accomplished  this  wonderful  work,  removing 
all  traces  of  everything  else,  burning  out  root  and  branch  of  nature  and 
art,  and  taking  possession  of  the  entire  land.  In  about  two  hours  the 
party  had  reached  the  point  where  all  must  go  upon  some  footing  other 
than  that  of  a  quadruped,  and  it  became  a  question  whether  it  should  be 
a  more  or  less  independent  one.  The  writer  will  only  speak  for  herself 
and  charge ;  they  went  up  the  cone  behind  their  guide,  having  no 
strap  fastened  to  a  man  before,  no  hands  upon  the  back  by  a  man  behind, 
no  broad  shoulders  to  bear  their  weight  —  the  independent  Two  this  time. 
One  hour  and  a  quarter  among  the  almost  perpendicular  lava  rocks  and 
sand,  but  the  climb  was  accomplished,  the  height  was  gained  and  the  re- 
ward, too.  But  a  little  before  we  reached  the  highest  point,  we  found 
ourselves  upon  smoking  ground,  upon  ground  so  hot  we  could  scarcely 
bear  the  hand  upon  it.  Was  it  possible  we  were  standing  so  near  those 
restless  fires,  those  treacherous  fires  which  lure  but  to  destroy?  The 
guide  said  the  crater  had  once  been  there  ;  who  knew  where  it  would  be 
next  ?  A  little  farther  and  a  year's  wanderings  were  rewarded,  the  labor 
of  many  years  was  remunerated.  We  sat  down  and  wrote  at  the  head 
of  a  letter  "  Summit  of  Vesuvius." 

On  the  pulverized  lava,  nearly  black  in  color  and  sufficiently  warm  to 
sit  upon,  the  breath  of  satisfaction  escaped  our  lips  while  we  rested  from 
our  walk,  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  cast  about  us  the  glance 
of  observation.  About  a  yard  distant  on  one  hand,  eggs  were  standing 
before  a  little  hole  in  the  ground,  getting  ready  for  our  repast ;  (they 
brought  to  mind  something  we  used  to  hear  when  children,  of  a  fabled 
spot  where  chickens,  ready  roasted,  went  about  with  forks  in  their  backs, 


l6o  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

crying  "  Eat  me,  eat  me  ; ")  about  as  far  away,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
gigantic  mouth  of  the  fire-god  was  gaping,  his  black,  sulphurous  breath 
casting  a  cloud  over  the  head  of  Vesuvius,  and  making  us  feel  that  we 
were  quite  as  near  to  the  entrance  of  the  infernal  regions,  as  was  ALneas 
on  the  banks  of  the  neighboring  lake  of  Avernus. 

Eggs,  beautifully  cooked,  were  eaten,  and  the  tour  of  inspection  com- 
menced. Close  to  the  edge —  not  too  close  —  we  peered  into  the  realms 
below ;  very  uncertain  were  the  objects  we  could  distinguish,  but  imag- 
ination worked  powerfully,  aided  by  momentary  glimpses  when  the  smoke 
cleared  a  little,  and  we  surely  saw,  on  the  cragged,  uneven  rocks,  the  yel- 
low sulphur  deposited  in  forms  to  vie  with  the  corals  of  the  deep  :  yellow, 
white,  green,  red,  every  color  was  there  in  the  rocks,  but  the  fire  was  too 
far  away  for  our  eyes  to  see  —  in  that  we  were  disappointed,  although  a 
flame  was  very  easily  produced  by  putting  the  end  of  a  stick  into  the 
crevice  where  our  eggs  were  cooked.  An  attempt  was  made  to  encircle 
this  yawning  mouth  of  the  crater,  to  measure  it  with  paces  all  unaccus- 
tomed to  treading  over  volcanic  formations,  but  the  fumes  of  sulphur  were 
overpowering. 

"  On  all  sides  are  gigantic  serpent  convolutions  of  black  lava,  their  im- 
mense fold  rolled  into  every  conceivable  contortion,  as  if,  in  their  fiery 
agonies,  they  had  struggled  and  wreathed  and  knotted  together,  and  then 
grown  old  and  black  with  the  imperishable  signs  of  those  terrific  convul- 
sions upon  them  ;  they  were  flecked  and  streaked  and  dyed  with  the 
violet  and  pink  and  purple  of  the  evening  sky.  Arsenic,  sulphur  and 
many  a  sharp  and  bitter  salt  were  in  everything.  The  sulphurous  cliffs 
were  dyed  in  many  a  brilliant  shade  of  brown  and  orange  by  the  admix- 
ture of  various  ores,  but  their  brightness  seemed  strange  and  unnatural, 
and  the  dizzying  whirls  of  vapor,  now  enveloping  the  whole  scene  in 
gloom,  now  lifting  in  this  spot,  now  in  that,  seemed  to  magnify  the  dis- 
mal pit  to  an  indefinite  size." 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  l6l 

We  turned  back,  and  soon  began  the  descent,  thankful  that  we  had 
.looked  into  the  depths  of  Vesuvius,  but  more  thankful  that  our  home  is 
not  upon  soil  which  trembles  with  the  earthquake's  shock  or  is  liable  to 
eruptions  of  red  hot  lava.  The  descent  was  quickly  accomplished  in  a 
straight-forward  direction  with  long  strides ;  there  was  no  danger  of  fall- 
ing as  there  would  be  under  ordinary  circumstances,  for  every  step 
planted  the  walker  firmly  in  the  sand,  and  what  it  hUd  taken  one  and  a 
quarters  hours  to  do,  was  undone  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour. 

At  three  o'clock,  P.  M.,  the  riders  were  remounted  and  the  return  com- 
menced. A  splendid  carriage  road  was  followed  and  the  view  during  the 
entire  route  was  extremely  fine.  The  sun  sank  into  the  sea  seeming 
almost  to  have  doubled  its  size  and  grandeur,  and  the  new  moon  ap- 
peared, the  ninth  in  number  of  the  thirteen  which  we  expected  to  wax 
and  wane  while  we  were  wanderers  in  a  foreign  land.  Nine  hours  had 
been  spent,  and  a  carriage  took  us  back  to  Naples  in  the  dark,  weary 
enough  to  make  our  couches  feel  soft  and  good,  and  rest  for  a  day  some- 
what desirable,  especially  to  the  riders  on  horseback. 

At  the  gates  of  the  Dead  City  of  the  Past,  the  shadow  of  the  Des- 
troyer looms  up  as  black  and  as  ominous  as  when,  two  thousand  years  ago, 
in  the  bustle  and  business  of  life,  this  people  unconsciously  prepared 
their  own  burial  place.  In  this  early  spring-time,  when  the  earthy  brown 
is  scarcely  covered  with  garments  of  green,  a  peculiar  feeling  of  gloom 
pervades  the  entire  scene,  and  we  sleep  nervously  between  the  half  res- 
urrected city  and  the  fiery  mountain  which  holds  weapons  of  death  to 
hurl  at  the  unwary  who  slumber  at  its  base,  and  we  thankfully  welcome 
another  glorious  dawn  which  promises  sunlight  in  the  silent  streets,  where 
we  will  spend  a  day  studying,  musing  upon  the  last  days  of  Pompeii. 

Through  one  of  the  eight  gates  we  enter  within  the  walls,  which, 
although  double,  and  with  the  intervening  space  filled  with  earth,  were 
yet  not  adequate  to  keep  out  the  burning,  destroying  foe.  Intent  upon 

21 


l62  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

our  purpose,  we  proceed  at  once  to  the  central  point,  the  Forum,  where 
were  wont  to  assemble  all  ages  and  ranks,  all  classes  and  professions,  to 
enact  the  busy  scenes  of  life ;  we  come  here  to  draw  a  contrast  between 
the  past,  which  is  partly  fancied,  and  the  present,  which  is  entirely  real, 
the  fictitious  "Days"  of  Bulwer,  and  the  living  times  of  the  writer,  to 
look  with  a  double  eye  and  sketch  with  opposite  colors.  Then,  were 
coming  together  along  the  six  streets  which  converged  at  this  point, 
crowds  of  young  -and  old,  rich  and  poor,  busy  and  idle,  to  spend  the  day 
in  the  open  air,  and  perform  the  work  of  the  time,  or  discuss  the  events 
of  the  hour,  all  gesticulating,  gesturing  after  the  manner  of  the  Italians, 
and  ajl  unconscious  of  the  terrible  fate  impending  ;  now,  after  a  lapse  of 
two  thousand  years,  to  stand  upon  the  excavated  ruins  of  the  proud 
Pompeii,  come  three  femince,  from  the  shores  which  were  unknown  until 
ages  after  this  city  was  buried,  across  the  broad  ocean  all  unnavigated 
until  Italia's  son  braved  the  scorn  of  the  people  and  the  storms  of  the 
deep  to  find  the  continent  with  its  western  wilds.  Then,  the  money- 
changers sat  in  their  stalls  counting  their  coin,  which  were  of  inestima- 
ble value  in  their  greedy  eyes,  but  which  soon  would  be  no  more  than  the 
melting  minerals  beneath  the  seething  streams  of  lava  ;  then,  the  mer- 
chants displayed  their  bright  goods  in  the  shops  and  in  the  streets,  the 
itinerant  cooks  .sold  their  hot  morsels  to  the  hearty  and  the  hungry,  the 
learned  lawyers  talked  the  Latin  language,  so  soon  to  become  a  dead 
tongue  to  them  all.  Now,  a  few  wandering  and  wondering  women  and 
men,  with  minds  excited  and  eyes  dilated,  view  the  scene  in  astonish- 
ment and  talk  in  all  tongues  of  volcanic  eruptions  and  recent  excavations. 
Within  the  area  of  the  Forum  were  twenty-two  marble  pedestals  proud 
to  support  the  statues  of  the  illustrious  (Scipio's  was  prominent  among 
the  number)  ;  and  unfinished  pediments  were  in  the  process  of  comple- 
tion for  equestrian  statues  which,  alas !  were  never  to  be  elevated  ;  to-day 
they  all  lie  low,  broken,  blackened,  buried,  or  raised  only  to  grace  the 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  163 

walls  of  some  neighboring  museum.  In  those  days  near  the  Forum 
stood  temples  to  the  gods  and  goddesses  that  the  people  worshipped  with 
feasts  and  rich  offerings,  and  appeased  in  their  wrath  with  libation  and 
blood,  —  Venus,  Mercury,  Jupiter,  Fortuna  and  Isis  ;  in  these  latter 
days  the  temples  are  stripped,  the  altars  are  torn  down,  the  priests  are 
silent  and  here  religion  is  a  myth. 

A  favorite  place  of  resort  for  the  Pompeians  in  those  days  of  luxury 
was  the  Thermae,  fitted  up  in  elegance  ;  they  were  commodious  and  capa- 
cious, covering  an  entire  square.  But  these  baths  were  bathed  in  liquid 
fire,  and  the  bathers  were  buried  in  the  burning  ashes. 

Just  at  this  point  of  ramble  among  the  ruins,  the  musings  of  the  Three 
were  interrupted  by  the  demands  of  appetite,  and  the  question  arose, 
where  would  be  a  suitable  place  to  satisfy  these  demands.  Many  doors 
were  open  unto  us,  but  we  chose  the  house  of  the  tragic  poet,  for  we 
knew  "  his  suppers  were  the  best  in  Pompeii,"  and  he  loved  literature 
and  the  fine  arts,  and  gave  his  guests  mental  as  well  as  bodily  food. 
Directly  opposite  the  baths  was  the  home  of  Glaucus,  the  poet,  and  we 
crossed  the  street,  which  we  should  call  narrow,  certainly  not  wide  enough 
for  other  than  velocipedes  to  meet ;  the  crossing  was  what  moderns  might 
adopt  with  advantage  to  their  ladies,  if  not  to  their  carriages  —  large,  flat, 
high  stones,  with  little  more  than  space  for  the  wheel  between,  lifting  the 
walker  out  of  the  dirt  and  protecting  her  from  contact  with  rider  and 
steed.  The  road  was  lowered  the  width  of  these  stepping  stones  below 
the  pavement,  and  large  square  blocks  of  lava  closely  fitted  together  bear 
marks  of  the  wheels  in  their  course  and  prints  of  the  hoofs.  The  house 
which  we  selected  as  the  -one  in  which  to  dine  was  small  but  one  of  the 
most  elegant,  and  in  other  days  they  entered  a  narrow  hall,  where  was  a 
fierce  dog  in  mosaic,  and  the  words  "  Cave  canem"  Nearly  all  the  rooms 
were  rich  in  paintings  of  the  brightest  hues.  Classical  subjects  were 
illustrated,  one  of  which  was  the  admiration  of  all  who  looked  upon  it — 


164  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

the  parting  of  Achilles  and  Briseis.  In  the  centre  was  a  court  where 
blossomed  the  most  brilliant  flowers  in  marble  vases,  and  there  was  a 
fane  dedicated  to  the  Penates.  Those  who  would  know  more  of  that 
beautiful  home,  that  brilliant  host,  that  sumptuous  repast,  must  read  Bul- 
wer's  description  or  rely  upon  the  powers  of  imagination.  We  entered 
the  doorway  unrung  and  unannounced ;  the  dog  was  not  there  even  in 
mosaic,  although  other  mosaics  were  found  under  the  accumulated  sand. 
"  Achilles  and  Briseis  "  had  gone  together  to  the  museum  at  Naples,  but 
many  others  were  still  upon  the  walls,  somewhat  faded  and  soiled,  to  be 
sure,  but  beautiful  nevertheless.  The  household  gods  had  all  departed. 
The  Three  sat  down  on  the  threshold  with  the  walls  about  them,  but  no 
roof  overhead,  and  ate  their  cold  bread  and  oranges,  dwelling  upon  the 
instability  of  earthly  things. 

Then  through  the  long  street  of  tombs  —  once  the  tombs  of  the  dead, 
afterwards  the  tombs  of  the  living,  to  the  house  of  Diomed.  Here  wealth 
was  manifest  in  everything  ;  the  cellars  were  stocked  with  wine  to  grow 
old.  The  purse  was  filled  with  gold  to  save,  and  the  key  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  servant  to  keep  foe  from  the  treasures.  But  alas !  the  wine 
is  too  old  in  the  casks,  the  hand  that  carried  the  purse  is  colder  than  the 
gold,  the  key  and  the  servant  are  useless  ;  the  seventeen  who  had  fled  to 
the  cellar  from  the  eruption  of  the  volcano,  made  an  impression  so  last- 
ing upon  the  walls  and  the  rocks,  that  after  two  thousand  years  we  can 
tell  much  concerning  their  fate. 

Six  hours  we  have  walked  in  this  city  so  suddenly  quieted  in  its  activity 
and  life,  so  long  buried  from  the  sight  of  the  world,  and  we  feel  how  wise 
it  is  that  we  know  not  what  our  end  will  be,  rjor  in  what  day  or  hour  it 
will  come.  The  Past  is  open  and  full  of  instruction  in  regard  to  the 
deeds  of  the  Present,  but  the  Future  must  continue  to  be  a  sealed  vol- 
ume to  all. 

Our  walk  is  not  finished  yet.     Just  across  the  fields  of  lava,  fields 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  165 

already  commencing  the  labor  of  the  year,  still  at  the  base  of  the  dread 
mountain  we  see  the  village  of  Castellamare  rising  from  the  ashes  of  Sta- 
bia,  which  shared  one  and  the  same  fate  with  Pompeii.  This  was  the 
spot  where  Pliny,  leaving  his  fleet  across  the  bay,  came  to  witness  the 
phenomenon  of  a  mountain  on  fire,  but  he  was  unable  to  flee  himself,  and 
he  died  the  victim  of  philosophical  research  and  kindly  love  for  his  fellow 
creatures.  On,  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  with  the  bold  bare  mountains  at 
our  left,  and  the  bright  blue  bay  at  our  right,  through  a  most  picturesque 
village  cut  in  two  by  a  deep,  cragged  defile  running  from  the  sea  back 
into  the  heart  of  the  hills  —  the  Vicus  Equinus  of  the  ancients  —  we 
merely  continue  the  course  previously  described  and  double  the  bright 
pictures  we  looked  upon  then,  over  the  famous  route  which  everybody 
takes  to  the  beautiful  plain  of  Sorrento,  for  miles  through  olive  orchards 
and  orange  groves,  crossing  the  wildest  ravines,  whose  depths  are  cov- 
ered with  lemon  trees,  the  bright  green  beautifully  sprinkled  with  the 
yellow  fruit ;  and  whose  rocky  sides  are  trained  to  nurture  the  vine  and 
fig  tree ;  through  this  scene  of  loveliness,  nineteen  miles  from  Naples 
and  just  across  the  bay,  the  birth-place  of  Tasso  is  reached.  It  is  not 
strange  that  such  eloquence  and  poetry  have  emanated  from  these  regions. 
Stand  in  the  poet's  birthplace  and  listen  to  the  roll  of  the  waves,  the 
whirl  of  the  waters  and  the  wail  of  the  winds  ;  see  the  sudden  squall  on 
this  stormy  sea  chase  the  sunshine  from  shore  to  shore,  raising  the 
feathery  billows  in  pretended  wrath  till  the  breast  of  the  deep  seems  cov- 
ered with  birds  of  snowy  plumage ;  then  you  will  appreciate  the  lessons 
the  sea  gives  to  her  sons.  Sorrento,  the  loveliest  of  the  lovely,  adds  to 
the  little  treasures  of  these  sachels  and  shawl-straps  some  showy  silken 
scarfs  and  wood  work,  wrought  in  wonderful  ways,  and  we  add  the  name 
of  Sorrento  to  the  list  of  delightful  days  spent  in  this  terrestrial  para- 
dise. 

But  now  we  can  vouch  for  the  fickleness  of  the  Mediterranean.     With 


1 66  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

the  pleasure  of  a  walk  around  the  beautiful  Bay  of  Naples,  (about  thirty 
of  the  fifty-three  miles  we  had  already  passed,)  we  had  connected  the  idea 
of  a  visit  to  the  island  of  Capri  and  its  grotto,  so  gorgeously  grand  that 
we  might  imagine  that  Tiberius,  whose  house  was  long  amid  its  beauties, 
had  prepared  the  place  for  his  infamous  orgies.  The  rays  of  light  reach 
this  cave  in  the  sea  only  through  the  waters  which  rob  them  of  all  their 
colors  except  the  azure,  hence  its  sides  are  a  heavenly  blue  and  it  takes 
the  name  of  Azure  Grotto. 

The  waves  rolled  high  and  beat  upon  the  rocks,  and  the  winds  rolled 
too  around  the  jagged  peaks  so  that  not  a  mortal  dared  man  a  boat  and 
trust  himself  on  the  uneasy  deep.  In  spite  of  the  winds  we  went  over 
the  ground  where  "  Agnes  of  Sorrento  "  walked  with  her  grandmother, 
entering  the  orange  groves  and  plucking  the  golden  fruit  which  our  hands 
could  easily  reach,  by  the  side  of  the  pale  green  olive  terracing  the  moun- 
tain sides,  over  the  deep  defiles  which  the  angry  sea  has  cut  for  itself — 
four  miles  toward  Massa  where  we  might  be  nearer  to  Capri.  Entering 
the  limits  of  this  town  more  dead  than  Pompeii,  we  asked  for  a  hotel.  A 
bright  boy  left  his  horse  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  with  a 
cunning  look  over  his  shoulder  kept  saying,  "  Come  along;  come  along  !" 
We  tried  to  talk  with  him  but  he  only  replied  "  Come  along,  come  along!" 
Passing  through  streets  narrower  than  the  closes  of  Edinboro,  he  knocked 
loudly  at  a  gate  which  after  a  time  was  opened  and  we  were  conducted 
to  the  one  room  we  conclude,  where  were  a  number  of  beds  for  the  weary 
to  rest,  but  scarcely  another  article  of  furniture  in  sight.  We  concluded 
to  return  to  the  Hotel  Tasso,  and  the  next  day  went  back  to  the  city  born 
of  a  sea  nymph.  A  little  longer  with  these  idle  inhabitants,  a  few  more 
days  under  these  sunny  skies,  and  hand  in  hand  with  youthful  Spring,  we 
turn  our  course  toward  more  northern  regions.  We  trust  the  fair  god- 
dess will  not  desert  us,  but  will  strew  our  pathway  with  blossoms  many, 
and  deck  the  garlands  above  our  heads  as  we  seek  again  the  land  of  our 
birth. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  167 

Adieu,  fair  Napoli !  May  your  skies  be  ever  golden,  your  waters  sparkle 
in  the  bright  sunlight,  your  mountains  and  Islands  be  cr6wned  with  roseate 
hues,  and  may  Vesuvius  nurse  the  fires  within  his  own  burning  breast,  and 
the  earthquakes  leave  you  undisturbed.  Naples,  farewell ! 


ROME. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

NIGHT'S  ride  through  the  Campagna  of  Italy,  and  early 
morning  opened  our  eyes  upon  Rome.  Rome!  —  Rome! 
—  Regal  Rome  !  Seven  weeks  within  her  walls  and  among 
her  seven  hills  —  weeks  which  had  their  days  doubled,  their 
hours  heaped  up,  their  minutes  multiplied,  yea,  their  seconds 
stretched  out  almost  into  centuries  —  and  the  wandering 
Three  were  so  burdened,  oppressed,  weighed  down  by  the  accumulation 
of  time,  the  passing  away  of  generations,  the  changes  in  form  of  govern- 
ment, that  their  hands  refused  to  do  their  bidding,  the  ink  dried  upon  the 
pen,  the  mind  lost  itself  in  the  maze  of  thought,  and  letters  were  unwrit- 
ten because  there  was  so  much  to  say. 

Rome  is  not  like  any  other  city.  It  is  the  city  of  all  cities  ;  it  repre- 
sents the  time  of  all  times ;  it  is  in  very  truth  the  Eternal  City.  Up 
and  down  her  seven  hills,  round  about  her  massive  walls,  along  beside 
the  yellow  Tiber,  slowly  under  the  famous  arches,  toiling  up  the  crumbling 
towers,  delving  deep  in  the  buried  ruins,  gazing  with  wonder  at  the  works 
of  art,  —  was  it  strange  that,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  we  knew  not  our- 
selves ? 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Romulus  and  Remus  nursing  the  wolf.  2.  General  view  of  Rome,  enter- 
ing at  the  Porta  del  Popolo  (Gate  of  the  People).  3.  Obelisk  brought  from  Egypt,  in  centre  of 
Piazza  del  Popolo.  4.  The  street  called  the  Corso,  passing  between  the  Twin  Churches,  Via 
Ripetta  at  the  right,  Via  Babuina  at  the  left.  5.  The  Capitol,  a  little  beyoud  the  Corso,  on 
the  Capitoline  Hill,  the  Colosseum  at  the  left.  6.  The  Tiber,  passing  through  the  city,  with  the 
Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  the  Piazza  St.  Peter,  the  Cathedral  and  Vatican  on  the  right. 


I^TSB&^^is^^fiifccr  -  ...v^t 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC.  169 

We  stand  upon  the  Aventine,  and  again  we  live  the  early  days  of  that 
other  life  when  all  the  world  was  forgotten,  and,  infatuated,  we  followed 
the  Dardanian  chief,  the  "  goddess-born  ./Eneas,"  fleeing  from  conquered 
Troy  to  where  — 

"  In  the  shady  shelter  of  a  wood, 
And  near  the  margin  of  a  gentle  flood, 
He  beheld  a  sow  upon  the  ground, 
With  thirty  sucking  young  encompassed  round." 

We  see  the  Trojans  leave  the  main  and  enter  the  wood, 

"  Which  thick  with  shades  and  a  brown  horror  stood," 

and  soon  we  see  the  hundred  ambassadors,  laden  with  presents,  on  their 
way  to  King  Latinus,  who  receives  them  within  his  portico  of  a  hundred 
columns,  standing  on  this  same  Mount  Aventinus,  accepts  the  sceptre 
of  old  Priam,  and  sends  a  gift  of  three  hundred  horses  and  a  chariot  for 
the  pious  ^Eneas.  Near  the  base  of  this  mountain  stood  the  fig  tree 
(ficus  ruminalis)  where 

"  By  the  wolf  were  laid  the  martial  twins," 

and  at  its  summit,  in  after  years,  Remus  stood  while  his  brother  Romulus 
was  stationed  upon  Palatinus  to  watch  the  flight  of  birds  and  take  the 
auguries  to  decide  who  should  found  the  city  about  to  be  built.  To-day 
we  cross  this  lowest  of  the  seven  hills,  we  pass  from  base  to  opposite 
base,  and  what  do  you  think  we  see  ?  A  beautiful  blue  sky  overhead, 
but  almost  nothing  else ;  for  the  narrow,  dusty  streets  are  shut  in  by 
smooth,  high  brick  walls,  which  allow  not  a  glimpse  of  the  great  green 
vineyards  behind  them  ;  and  were  we  taking  auguries,  the  birds  must  fly 
high  or  we  should  not  read  aright.  We  muse  and  dream,  and  say  within 
ourselves,  Truly  the  world  has  changed  within  twenty-five  hundred  years. 
Down  toward  the  setting  sun  we  turn  our  steps  and  seek  the  muddy 
river,  which  has  wound  its  way  to  the  sea  regardless  of  the  flight  of  time 
or  deeds  of  men,  to  the  point  where  the  Pons  Sublicius,  oldest  of  the 
bridges  across  the  Tiber,  was  immortalized  by  the  brave  defense  of  Hora- 
tius  Codes,  standing  alone  on  its  tottering  timbers  till  all  support  was 

22 


I7O  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

cut  away,  then  with  his  heavy  armor  on  he  swam  to  the  shore,  leaving 
the  enemy  looking  wistfully  across.  This  scene  brings  back  an  oration 
to  which  we  often  listened  with  thrilling  interest  from  a  bright-eyed 
youth  of  wondrous  powers,  and  so  it  brings  back  Cortland  Academy  and 
the  village  green,  happy  hours  and  pleasant  scenes,  childhood  and  home. 
But  the  bridge  which  the  brave  Horatius  "  kept  so  well "  has  followed 
him  into  the  waves  of  the  Tiber,  and,  like  him,  been  swallowed  up  by  the 
waves  of  Time.  No  bridge  and  no  Horatius  Codes ! 

To  the  north  of  the  mountain  we  have  described,  (deserted  and  old, 
still  fertile  and  fresh,)  rises  another  of  the  seven  hills,  the  Capitoline, 
with  its  saddle-backed  ridge  crowned  with  two  peaks,  Ara  Coali  and 
Monte  Caprino,  and  the  intervening  space  known  as  Intermontane.  Oh, 
for  words  and  time  to  tell  what  this  mountain  has  borne  and  these  peaks 
have  seen !  Strabo  and  Livy  have  told  us  that  nature  once  adorned 
these  summits  with  trees,  and  that  in  the  intervening  space  between 
these  two  groves  Romulus,  the  first  king  of  Rome,  opened  an  asylum 
for  those  fleeing  from  justice,  and  brought  together  assassins  and  out- 
casts from  all  lands,  and  so  furnished  citizens  for  his  new  city.  Then 
where  could  wives  be  found  for  such  a  set  of  men  ?  But  the  carrying 
off  of  the  Sabine  women  belongs  to  another  part  of  Rome.  Wives  were 
stolen,  and  the  inhabitants  increased  and  multiplied  under  the  king  whose 
nurse  was  a  wolf  and  whose  subjects  were  monsters  of  wickedness.  On 
the  eastern  point  of  the  Capitoline  mount,  called  Ara  Coeli,  (Altar 
of  Heaven,)  they  reared  a  temple  to  Jupiter,  which  stood  for  centuries 
and  furnished  a  place  of  worship  for  these  godless  creatures  to  satisfy  the 
spark  of  conscience  still  burning  within  their  breasts.  It  did  something 
else  too  —  it  gave  us  the  name  of  Capitol ;  for  in  digging  for  the  founda- 
tions of  this  temple  the  head  was  found  of  a  man  named  Tolus,  (caput 
Toli,)  so  the  building  was  called  Capitol,  and  the  name  has  since  been 
given  to  head  buildings  in  other  lands. 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  I/I 

But  pause,  my  pen,  and  cease  your  scribbling ;  for  vain  is  the  effort  to 
enumerate  the  smallest  part  of  the  daring  deeds  and  wondrous  works 
of  mighty  men  and  numerous  hosts  all  along  down  from  Romulus  to 
Victor  Emanuel.  What  crowns  Mons  Capitolinus  to-day?  Our  eyes 
open  wide  with  wonder,  our  feet  hasten  on  with  alacrity,  we  approach 
the  spot  where  the  ages  are  heaped  in  a  mingled  mass.  High,  high  up 
the  six  score  steps,  on  the  point  toward  the  rising  sun,  appropriately 
stands  the  Church  of  Ara  Coeli,  upon  that  Altar  of  Heaven  which  once 
bore  the  heathen  temple  to  Jupiter  Capitolinus.  Here,  as  was  most  fit, 
in  this  church  so  high,  near  the  spot  where  Rome  took  its  rise,  Gibbon 
conceived  the  idea  of  describing  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire. 

A  few  steps  downward  and  we  stand  in  the  Piazza  del  Campidoglio  and 
face  the  Senatorial  Palace  which  rises  from  the  ancient  Tabularium  which 
in  its  turn  rises  from  something  older  beneath  it,  (this  massive  foundation 
was  once  the  receptacle  of  the  archives  of  republican  Rome,  and  com- 
municated with  the  grand  old  Forum  at  its  base,  both  of  which  have  for 
centuries  lain  under  the  soil).  A  palace  at  our  right  and  a  palace  at  our 
left,  both  full  of  mementoes  of  the  past  which  we  could  have  spent  the 
weeks  in  examining.  There  sit  in  cold  silence  the  marble  images  of  many 
who  have  added  to  the  long  history  of  this  old  city,  famous  and  infamous, 
cruel  and  kind,  patrician  and  plebeian  in  impressive  array,  surrounded  by 
the  fruits  of  their  labors  corroded  and  defaced  by  the  hand  of  time. 

Ye  social  readers  of  "  The  Marble  Faun,"  under  the  guidance  of  Haw- 
thorne and  one  of  the  "  Independent  Three,"  imagine  yourselves  in  the 
capitol  at  Rome.  In  the  center  of  the  first  room  we  have  entered  after 
ascending  the  stairs  the  Gladiator  is  still  dying  ;  Juno,  Apollo,  the  Antinous 
and  the  Amazon  all  stand  the  same  cold,  unmoved  observers  of  his  agony, 
and  the  Faun  of  Praxiteles  smiles  on  the  scene,  sad  as  it  is,  —  the  Faun, 
combining  in  one  and  the  same  form  marks  of  the  human  and  the  animal 


1/2  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

natures,  the  impress  of  mind  and  the  pointed,  leaf-shaped  ears  of  the 
lower  animals  —  the  Marble  Faun,  which  was  for  hundreds  of  years 
buried  under  the  ruins  of  the  past,  then  raised  again  to  be  placed  as  a 
gem  of  the  sculptor's  art  in  this  modern  museum  on  the  old  Capitoline 
Hill,  and  to  become  the  theme  of  a  most  beautifully  told  tale  of  a  well- 
known  American  writer. 

We  look  from  one  of  the  windows  of  this  famous  Capitoline  museum 
down  upon  the  buildings,  some  of  which  saw  the  dawn  of  Christianity, 
over  the  arch  of  Septimus  Severus,  not  so  triumphal  as  in  the  days  of  its 
erection  ;  the  Roman  Forum,  name  reiterated  in  all  ages  as  the  era  of 
Roman  power,  lying  in  the  valley  between  the  Capitoline  and  Palatine 
mounts  ;  on  to  the  Coliseum,  the  grandest  of  colossal  ruins  ;  —  over  all 
this  we  looked  as  did  the  former  imaginary  personages  in  the  story  to 
which  we  have  alluded  ;  and  we  too  were  pressed  down  with  weighty 
reminiscences,  our  lives  were  swallowed  up  in  the  grand  events  transacted 
within  the  small  space  coming  within  our  vision.  With  one  of  the  four, 
we  felt  that  the  Gladiator  is  too  long  in  the  very  act  of  death,  and  we  left 
him  to  walk  with  the  four  in  their  romantic  wanderings  through  the  city 
of  the  Caesars,  this  capital  of  the  world.  Through  one  hall  after  another, 
gazing  upon  antique  sculpture  of  dead  heroes  and  rulers,  mythical  gods 
and  goddesses,  imaginary  Fauns  and  Satyrs,  warlike  Minervas  and  lovely 
Venuses,  powerful  Hercules  and  terrible  Jupiters,  until  the  eqilibrium  of 
our  brain  seemed  very  much  disturbed,  and  we  could  easily  imagine  all 
joining  in  a  sylvan  dance  with  the  frisky  Faun  as  their  leader. 

The  brazen  wolf  which  centuries  ago  gave  the  unnatural  supply  to  the 
deserted  boys  in  the  Roman  Forum  is  religiously  preserved  for  coming 
generations  to  see,  and  still  supplies  models  for  pictures  and  casts  which 
are  everywhere  seen  in  the  streets  of  Rome.  In  the  center  of  the  piazza, 
the  noble  horse  of  Marcus  Aurelius  still  prances  and  paws  as  he  did  in 
the  days  when  the  prince  of  sculptors,  Michael  Angelo,  said,  "  See,  he 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  1/3 

moves,"  and  the  first  and  seventh  mile  stone  stand  almost  side  by  side  up 
here,  so  long  has  been  the  time  since  they  measured  the  weary  way  on 
the  Via  Appia  to  Paul  going  forth  to  death.  Constantine  and  his  son  are 
prominent  here  as  they  are  in  the  annals  of  the  church  and  crown,  and 
Castor  and  Pollux  stand  by  the  side  of  their  colossal  steeds  and  guard  the 
steps  to  this  famous  mount.  Can  you  not  see  this  one  of  the  seven  hills 
with  the  ruins  at  its  base,  the  relics  on  its  face,  and  the  church  and  cap- 
itol  crowning  its  summit  ? 

Perhaps  our  friends  for  the  sake  of  variety  would  take  a  long  stride 
from  the  hill-tops  of  Rome  to  the  valleys  between,  from  the  dead  images 
of  the  past  to  the  living  forms  of  the  present,  from  the  dome  of  the  Cap- 
itol to  the  Corso  Victor  Emanuel.  They  will  surely  feel  that  they  have 
leaped  over  the  ages,  over  time  and  space,  and  have  been  suddenly  trans- 
ported into  fairy  realms.  The  windows  are  brilliant  with  shining  pearls 
and  pictured  mosaics,  with  varied  marble  and  cunningly  wrought  bronze, 
with  portraits  that  speak  and  statues  that  breathe,  with  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow  and  the  skill  of  inspiration.  Balconies  have  been  builded 
from  story  to  story,  bordered  with  crimson  and  colors  bright,  crowded 
with  people  far  and  near.  The  streets  are  dense  with  the  crowds  that 
gaze,  they  are  alive  with  the  numbers  that  throng  their  midst,  they  are 
wild  with  the  tumult  that  comes  from  the  many,  they  are  fantastic  with 
the  costumes  that  cover  the  multitudes,  they  are  strange  with  the  masks 
that  hide  the  true-face,  they  are  comical  with  the  mixture  of  nature  and 
race.  For  what  has  the  world  come  together  in  Rome  ?  It  is  the  grand 
carnival  time  and  now  all  labor,  and  care,  and  thought  are  given  to  the 
winds  and  melted  into  air  ;  the  old  have  become  young  again,  the  hideous 
have  become  beautiful,  the  sirens  have  become  dancing  fauns,  and  the 
tarantala  is  gaily  performed  to  the  music  of  tambourines.  For  days  the 
Corso  is  the  scene  of  confusion  and  everybody  is  pelted  with  flowers  and 
confetti,  and  then  the  world  goes  back  to  its  duties  and  the  Three  return 
to  their  wandering  ways. 


174  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

Most  interesting  of  the  forty-six  Piazzas  (public  squares)  of  this  an- 
cient city  is  the  "Piazza  di  San  Pietro,  which  we  cross  the  Ponte  St. 
Angelo  to  visit,  and  standing  in  front  of  the  most  magnificent  modern 
monument  in  the  world,  the  Basilica  di  St.  Pietro.  We  gaze  upon  this 
grand  elliptical  amphitheatre  surrounded  by  a  semi-circular  portico  formed 
of  284  columns  in  four  rows,  and  this  surmounted  by  140  colossal  statues. 
In  the  centre  stands  the  Egyptian  obelisk,  72  feet  high,  which  Caligula 
brought  to  Rome  and  placed  in  the  circus  of  Nero,  for  it  is  here  that  the 
most  despicable  of  despots  sent  his  name  in  infamy  down  to  coming  gen- 
erations by  the  massacre  of  the  Christians.  At  each  side  of  this  church, 
which  is  the  largest  in  the  world,  are  the  equestrian  statues  of  Constantine 
and  Charlemagne,  which  send  the  mind  galloping  back  through  the  ages 
of  the  past  to  the  year  326,  when  Constantine  commenced  the  construc- 
tion of  a  basilica,  and  carried  with  his  own  hands  twelve  baskets  of  earth 
in  honor  of  the  twelve  apostles.  After  a  thousand  years  this  gave  place 
to  the  present  grand  structure,  the  wonder  of  the  world.  It  occupied 
178  years  in  building  and  350  to  perfect  it ;  cost  $50,000,000,  and  covers 
eight  acres  ;  54,000  persons  can  be  accommodated  'at  a  time  within  its 
walls.  It  contains  290  windows,  748  columns,  47  altars,  and  380  statues. 
Two  of  the  master  minds  which  the  world  has  ever  produced  devoted 
their  best  years  to  the  construction  of  this  building,  and  the  genius  and 
skill  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  are  seen  in  all  its  parts.  On  the 
summit  of  the  facade,  149  by  370  feet,  are  the  statues  of  Christ  and  the 
twelve  apostles.  We  enter  one  of  the  five  doors  which  give  access  to 
the  vestibule  and  stand  and  wonder  and  gaze  through  the  long  central 
nave  89  feet  broad,  152  feet  high,  to  the  tribune  607  feet  away  in  the 
distance ;  past  the  eight  fluted  Corinthian  pilasters,  each  a  house  of 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Piazza  of  St.  Peter  with  its  obelisk  in  the  center.  2.  Cathedral  of  St. 
Peter  and  the  Vatican.  3.  Interior  of  St.  Peter.  4.  Statue  of  St.  Peter.  5.  Sistine  Chapel  in 
the  Vatican,  with  M.  Angelo's  Last  Judgment.  6.  Statue  of  Laocoon. 


liit.-ri.o   .  l,-l);i    ItiiKilirti 
di  8.  Piotro. 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  175 

itself ;  past  the  eight  chapels  each  a  church  of  itself  where  divine  service 
is  performed,  and  you  know  it  not  until  you  are  close  upon  it ;  past  the 
bronze  statue  of  St.  Peter,  black  as  Jupiter  Tonans,  whom  it  is  said  by 
some  to  represent,  and  whose  great  toe  is  polished  by  the  kisses  of  the 
faithful ;  past  the  beautiful  bronze  canopy  supported  by  four  spiral  col- 
umns under  which  is  the  high  altar  where  the  pope  only  celebrates  mass 
(and  still  beneath  is  said  to  be  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter,  although  many 
think  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  saw  the  city  of  Rome) ;  still  far- 
ther along  we  come  under  the  beautiful  dome  designed  by  Michael 
Angelo  which  lets  the  broad  light  of  heaven  in  upon  the  four  evangelists 
so  high  above  us  that  the  pen  in  the  hands  of  one,  although  seven  feet 
in  length,  seems  of  but  common  size.  But  we  came  in  with  the  curious 
to  ascend  to  the  dome  of  this  cathedral.  Many  had  gone  before  us  for 
the  doors  were  open  from  eight  to  eleven,  and  probably  hundreds  came 
after  us  as  we  learned  at  the  end.  The  minutes  went  by  and  yet  we 
kept  stepping  up  stair  after  stair,  ascending  flight  after  flight  arranged  in 
every  conceivable  way,  on  and  still  on  to  the  heights  above.  We  never 
before  attempted  to  walk  through  the  mazes  of  a  labyrinth  but  now  we 
had  entered  upon  a  route  which  seemed  endless.  "  The  roof  seems  of 
itself  a  little  city  —  covered  towers,  cottages,  cisterns,  plains  and  hills, 
slopes  and  precipices."  One  of  our  number  gave  out  again  and  stopped 
midway  between  earth  and  the  cross-crowned  summit,  while  the  two 
passed  on  together  for  the  highest  point.  The  space  through  which  we 
walked  grew  narrow  and  the  constantly  increasing  numbers  crowded 
compactly  together,  each  pushing  and  striving  to  enter  before  his  neigh- 
bor ;  the  tall  burly  men  almost  crushed  the  American  Coon  climbing  to 
heights  where  coons  seldom  go.  At  last,  with  the  sixteen  who  alone 
could  enter  the  bronze  ball  at  the  same  time,  we  passed  through,  the  door 
which  was  closed  and  fastened  by  the  guard  ;  again  we  mounted  an 
almost  perpendicular  flight  of  stairs,  where  the  last  flight  rose  entirely 


I 
176  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

perpendicular,  a  ladder  in  fact,  which  we  ascended,  and  while  our  backs 
pressed  against  the  opposite  wall  our  faces  almost  touched  the  wall  in 
front.  Where  were  we  ?  In  the  dome  of  St.  Peter  with  only  the  cross 
above  us  of  the  146  feet  from  the  pavement  below.  Sixteen  crouching 
figures,  for  we  could  by  no  means  stand  erect,  moving  around  in  a  brass 
ball,  stopping  every  step  or  two  to  put  an  eye  to  the  minute  openings 
which  looked  out  upon  the  country  of  the  Tiber,  and  down  into  the  old 
streets  where  men  looked  like  specks  in  the  sands  of  time ;  peering  out 
toward  the  sea  sixteen  miles  away,  our  vision  of  yEnas  and  the  Trojans 
suddenly  vanished,  dissipated  by  a  harsh  voice  bidding  us  descend  and 
give  place  to  others.  About  four  hours  (it  occupied)  to  go  to  the  sum- 
mit of  St.  Peter,  and  it  was  a  laborious  work  but  one  which  we  have 
never  regretted. 

From  the  Basilica  de  San  Pietro  in  Vaticano  to  the  Palazzo  del  Vati- 
cano  it  is  but  a  few  steps,  and  we  ascend  the  Scala  Regia,  with  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Constantine  guarding  the  base  and  the  less  lifeless 
guards  moving  up  and  down  in  picturesque  Swiss  costume,  the  dress 
adopted  in  the  time  of  Michael  Angelo  and  worn  to  the  present  day. 
The  date  of  the  building  of  this  largest  palace  in  the  world,  (1300  by 
1000  feet,)  this  home  of  the  Popes,  is  said  to  be  unknown  ;  but  it  existed 
in  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  for  he  occupied  it  when  he  visited  Rome,  in 
the  year  800,  to  be  crowned  by  Leo  III.  Modesty  bids  us  bow  our 
heads  and  speak  few  words  as  we  walk  day  after  day  through  the  halls 

and  galleries  and  museums  of  this  famous  edifice,  where  we  seem  to  tread 

« 

on  holy  ground  and  breathe  an  atmosphere  almost  divine.  Through  the 
Sistine  Chapel  —  so  called  from  Sixtus  IV.,  who  ordered  its  erection  — 
ornamented  with  the  finest  works  of  Michael  Angelo ;  the  paintings  on 
the  ceiling,  which  occupied  him  twenty-two  months,  representing  the 
Creation,  the  Fall  of  Man  and  the  Deluge ;  his  most  celebrated  painting, 
the  Last  Judgment,  covers  the  entire  end  of  the  chapel,  thirteen  feet  in 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  177 

breadth,  and  occupied  his  fruitful  mind  and  skillful  hand  almost  seven 
entire  years  ;  while  the  paintings  on  the  side  walls  represent  the  life 
,of  Mary  and  the  life  of  Christ.  Through  the  Loggia  of  Raphael,  termi- 
nating the  royal  staircase,  and  consisting  of  three  tiers  of  most  beautiful 
porticoes  surrounding  an  open  court,  where  "  Raphael's  Bible "  is  laid 
before  the  beholder  in  fifty-two  pictures  on  the  vaults  of  the  arches, 
representing  facts  from  the  Old  Testament ;  the  one  over  the  entrance, 
of  the  Eternal  Father,  was  executed  by  Raphael's  own  hand,  the  remain- 
der w^re  designed  by  him  and  executed  by  his  pupils.  Through  the 
gallery  of  pictures,  where,  among  the  choice  collection,  is  the  Transfig- 
uration on  Mount  Tabor,  wet  with  the  colors  of  the  artist  when,  only 
thirty-two  years  of  age,  the  Angel  of  Death  transported  him  to  regions 
where,  we  trust,  he  paints  with  heavenly  dyes, —  fit  production  of  the 
illustrious  master  to  lead  the  funeral  procession  to  his  tomb  in  the  Pan- 
theon, and  to  occupy  henceforth  its  position  at  the  head  of  all  paintings, 
fresh  throughout  the  ages.  Through  the  Stanze  of  Raphael,  consisting 
of  four  halls  which,  it  is  said,  have  not  their  equal  in  the  world  in  extent, 
composition,  color,  and  general  execution  ;  one,  called  the  Hall  of  Con- 
stantine,  representing  incidents  in  the  life  of  that  emperor  —  his  baptism, 
the  appearance  of  the  fiery  cross,  and  his  victory  over  Maxentius. 
Through  the  various  museums,  where  everything  old  and  curious  is  seen, 
with  the  Torso  Belvidere,  fragment  of  a  statue  of  Hercules,  and  the 
celebrated  group  of  Laocoon,  a  statue  dug  up  with  the  seventy  thousand 
about  Rome  which  come  from  the  ages  of  the  past,  taking  us  back  to  the 
days  of  Virgil,  when  we  read  that  the  serpents,  "  ardentes  oculos  suffecti 
sanguini  et  igni"  destroyed  Laocoon  and  his  two  sons, —  days  when  the 
wooden  horse  was  brought  into  Troy  ;  a  statue  which  is  a  remnant 
of  Greek  sculpture,  carried  to  Paris  in  1797  by  Napoleon,  and  returned 
when  his  reign  was  finished. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Raphael.    2.  The  Transfiguration.    3.  The  Sistine  Madonna.  4.  St.  Cece- 
lia in  Ecstacies. 
23 


178  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

We  would  linger  long,  but  must  needs  break  away,  for  we  have  seen 
but  a  small  part  of  the  Eternal  City.  We  might  go  out  through  a  sub- 
terranean passage  by  which  the  Pope  escaped  when  Rome  was  sacked  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  took  refuge  in  the  castle  which  we  find  at  the 
other  extremity.  This  castle  or  fort,  which  has  many  times  seen  bloody- 
service,  was  raised  for  an  entirely  different  purpose  and  one  far  more 
peaceful  —  as  a  tomb  for  the  Emperor  Hadrian-  and  his  family  and  suc- 
cessors. It  is  said  to  have  been  covered  with  marble  and  adorned  with 
colossal  groups  of  men  and  horses,  the  statue  of  Hadrian  crowning  the 
whole.  But  War  regards  not  the  sacred  resting-place  of  the  dead  nor 
the  beautiful  creations  of  the  artist  or  sculptor,  and  in  537,  when  the 
Goths  besieged  the  Greeks  here,  the  beautiful  statues  were  hurled  down 
upon  the  besiegers  and  trampled  under  fo.ot  of  man  and  beast.  Now  it 
is  a  castle  instead  of  a  mausoleum,  and  bears  the  name  of  St.  Angelo, 
from  the  bronze  statue  of  St.  Michael,  the  archangel,  which  rises  from 
the  summit.  Walking  through  this  interesting  fort  down  into  the 
dismal  dungeon  where  Beatrice  Cenci  (Beatreechy  Chenchy  the  Ital- 
ians call  her,)  wept  away  the  weary  weeks,  we  understood  why  one 
sad  face  looks  down  upon  us  everywhere  in  Rome.  We  seemed  to 
see  the  sad  face  of  this  maiden  so  young,  as  it  was  painted  by 
the  artist  within  her  prison  walls  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo  the  evening 
before  her  execution  —  the  sorrowful  face  which  looks  out  from  so  many 
of  the  windows  of  Rome,  with  great  beseeching  eyes  of  brown  that  tell 
their  tale  of  weeping  and  of  woe  ;  that  face  which  is  radiant  in  its  turban 
of  white,  and  which  haunts  the  observer  from  palace  to  garret ;  the  same 
face,  the  original  of  which,  fresh  from  the  artist's  hand,  looked  upon  us 
from  the  walls  of  the  Barberini  Palace,  now  like  a  spectre  seemed  to  look 
down  from  the  grim  walls  of  the  old  nameless  palace  and  repeat  its  story 
of  patricide  (almost  justifiable)  and  execution  upon  the  block. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Castle  of  St.  Angelo.  2.  Beatrice  Cenci.  3.  Hilda's  Tower.  4.  Foun- 
tain of  Trevi. 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC. 

As  we  entered  the  large,  bare  room  where,  our  guide  informed  us,  her 
trial  was  conducted,  we  saw  at  the  farther  extremity  a  half-opened  door 
and  a  face  peering  intently  upon  us.  We  walked  quietly  and  spoke  low 
as  we  were  led  in  that  direction,  but  what  was  our  astonishment  to  find 
it  was  only  a  portrait  on  the  wall  —  the  portrait  of  Beatrice's  Judge,  who, 
listening  breathlessly  to  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses,  was  sketched  by 
the  artist,  and  lives  with  the  prisoner  and  painter  —  Beatrice  Cenci  and 
Guido  Reni.  We  walked  between  the  statues  of  the  twelve  Apostles 
out  over  the  bridge  of  many  a  century,  the  Ponte  St.  Angelo. 

One  sunny. day  in  February  we  three  walked  forth  to  see  —  we  knew 
not  what,  only  something  to  wonder  at.     Of  a  sudden  we  stopped.     Was 
it  ?     Yes,  it  must  be  —  Hilda's  Tower  !     "  Square,  massive,  lofty,  battle- 
mented,"  with  the  Virgin's  shrine  and  the  image  before  which  the  light 
has  been  burning  many  centuries.     Hawthorne  could  not  pause  in  his 
story  to  tell  you  the  legend  connected  with  this  shrine ;  we  give  you 
merely  the  outlines.     In  the  days  when  Rome  was  younger  and  her 
palaces  were  newer,  the  lord  and  lady  who  dwelt  in  elegance  here  left 
their  babe,  which  was  as  dear  as  all  babies  are  to  the  hearts  which  beat 
for  them,  in  the  care  of  a  faithful  servant.     The  watchful  nurse  placed 
the  babe  on  the  floor  and  stepped  in,  as  was  natural,  to  sympathize  with 
one  of  kindred  employment.     When  the  visit  was  ended  the  child  was 
gone —  where!  oh,  where  !     The  frantic  woman  sought  everywhere,  and 
finally  learned  that  a  mischievous  monkey  had  undertaken  the  care  of  the 
forsaken  little  one,  and  had  borne  it  to  the  highest  point  of  this  palatial 
residence.     Crazy  with  fear,  she  prostrated  herself  and  made  vows  which 
moved  the  heart  of  the  Virgin  to  save  the  beloved  child.     The  delighted 
parents  raised  this  shrine,  and  this  is  the  light  which  Hilda  is  represented 
as  tending  so  faithfully,  and  this  the  dovecote  where  the  American  artist 
girl  dwelt  among  the  doves. 

As  we  stood  there  in  the  dirty  streets,  and  looked  wishfully  up  to  the; 


l8O  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

rays  so  high,  a  vision  flitted  past,  in  form  like  a  dove,  pure  and  white  as 
an  angel.  We  can  never  tell  whether  it  was  imagination,  or  one  of  Hilda's 
doves  come  down  to  greet  the  three  sisters  from  the  American  shores. 
Through  the  portal  of  this  palace,  over  the  hard,  dirty  stone  pavement, 
through  the  dingy,  dark  halls,  and  up  the  stone  steps  rising  story  after 
story,  where  in  different  ages  prince  and  peasant,  beggar  and  artist  have 
turned  their  course,  went  the  wandering  Three  to  call  at  the  door  of  the 
Dovecote,  where  the  copyist  entered  on  her  mission  to  the  Virgin's  shrine  ; 
and  within  which,  drawing  upon  her  memory,  she  copied  so  correctly 
the  mournful,  beautiful  Beatrice  Cenci  from  the  original  of  the  renowned 
Guido  Reni.  Beatrice  Cenci  is  one  of  the  characters  too  numerous  to 
mention,  whose  names  are  indelibly  written  in  the  records  of  history  — 
Roman  history  —  and  Hilda  the  Dove  will  henceforth  hold  a  place  among 
the  fictitious  characters  which  have  so  particularly  interested  all  readers 
in  the  true  and  living  ones. 

The  moon  rode  through  the  cloudless  sky,  casting  shadows  in  the 
Eternal  City,  creating  images,  in  the  sparkling  fountains,  looking  shyly 
round  the  corners  where  centuries  have  gone  into  darkness,  peeping  over 
the  massive  buildings  reared  by  the  hand  of  ancient  lords,  and  through 
the  dim  halls  of  once  georgeous  palaces,  lighting  up  the  tall  obelisk  that 
once  stood  upon  the  Nile,  and  making  the  hieroglyphics  tell  wondrous 
tales,  pouring  into  the  Golden  House,  which  Nero  raised  for  his  statues 
and  paintings  and  frescoes  and  mosaics,  and  most  of  all  his  cruel  self,  and 
into  the  baths  which  Titus  built  over  the  wealth  of  his  notorious  pred- 
ecessor ;  glancing  at  the  fallen  columns  which  once  stood  in  the  crowded 
Forums,  but  now  lie  broken  in  the  dust  below  ;  climbing  to  the  heights  of 
the  abode  of  the  Caesars,  and  picturing  with  golden  fingers  the  royal  mag- 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Capitoline  Mount  with  the  equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  Piazza  Campidoglia,  Church  of  Ara  Coeli  at  the  right,  the  Capitol  at  the  left ;  Castor 
and  Pollux  by  the  side  of  their  steeds  guarding  the  steps.  2.  The  Coliseum  by  Moonlight.  3. 
Arch  of  Constantino  and  Arch  of  Titus.  4.  Roman  Forum.  5.  Back  of  the  Capitol. 


'- 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  l8l 

m 

nificence  in,  this  home  of  tt\e  Emperors,  yea,  looking  back  to  the  home  of 
the  kings  who  ruled  and  reigned  in  this  city  of  fabulous  origin  on  the 
peak  of  the  Palatine,  and  gleamirig  upon  the  walls  of  that  wonder  of  the 
world  —  the  Coliseum. 

Coming'  from  the  hall  of  a  Roman  house  which  needs  not  the  light  of 
waxen  tapers,  the  Three  went  forth  with  their  company  doubled  and 
walked  through  the  streets  as  did  the  artists  and  sculptors  on  their  moon- 
light ramble,  coming  out  too  upon  the  same  piazza,  where  the  waters  have 
played  in  their  virgin  purity  ever  since  the  Aqua  Virgo  was  pointed  out 
1  a  thirsty  soldier  by  a  maiden  of  charms,  fourteen  miles  from  the  busy 
city,  and  brought  underground  more  than  a  score  of  years  before  the 
Christian  era  to  adorn  this  spot  in  the  midst  of  active  life.  For  nineteen 
hundred  years  Neptune  has  stood  above  these  waters  on  a  stupendous 
shell  and  Tritons  have  guided  his  sea-horses,  while  health  and  fertility 
have  dispensed  blessings  in  the  flowing  water  of  the  fountain  of  Trevi. 
We  stood  upon  the  borders  of  this  fountain,  with  the  music  of  the  waters 
sounding  in  our  ears,  and  the  play  of  the  moonlight  before  our  eyes,  and 
again  fancy  took  possession  of  us,  and  we  sailed  over  the  waters  of  this 
miniature  lake  with  sea-nymphs  at  our  side  and  the  Faun  upon  the  shore. 
We  were  not  ready  to  drink  of  this  fountain,  but  the  eve  before  we  left 
Rome,  we  stood  upon  the  borders  and  quaffed  the  water  that  will  ensure 
our  return. 

On  we  went  to  the  Forum  of  Trajan,  which  excels  all  the  other  forums  in 
magnificence  of  marble  and  splendor  of  sculpture,  where  stands  the  grand 
column  with  its  records  in  stone  of  the  deeds  of  the  emperor  among  the 
Dacians,  and  where  lies  on  the  verge  of  the  space  hollowed  out,  the  gray, 
granite  column  so  vast  in  its  fallen  grandeur  that  we  can  scarcely  imagine 
the  force  that  could  have  raised  it  or  the  ruin  of  its  fall.  Being  in  an 
altogether  mythical  mood,  we  called,  "Trajan  !  Trajan  !"  and  fancied  his 
spirit  coming  down  in  the  moonlight  and  standing  with  Peter  on  the  sum- 


1 82  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

mit  of  the  column,  and  we  left  him  to  look  over  the  change  which  cen- 
turies had  wrought,  while  we  passed  on  by  the  ruins  of  three  temples  to 
as  many  gods  and  goddesses,  on  to  the  Coliseum. 

The  Coliseum  by  moonlight.  The  great  black  ruin  is  none  too  large 
to  bear  the  inscriptions  of  death  and  destruction,  of  toil  and  torture,  of 
woe  and  wretchedness —  none  too  vast  to  give  the  names  and  numbers  of 
men  and  hearts  whose  blood  was  here  shed  for  the  gratification  of  the 
populace  —  none  too  black  to  tell  the  story  ;  —  and  the  moonlight  was 
none  too  bright  to  bring  out  the  weird  ghosts  of  the  eighty  thousand  who 
sat  on  these  seats  with  Vespasian  at  their  head  and  grinned  with  savage 
delight  at  the  horrible  scenes  enacted  below.  Nature  has  tried  to  hide 
this  monument  so  monstrous,  has  sprinkled  it  with  sands  that  lie  thick 
upon  its  breast,  but  man  will  not  permit  that  it  shall  be  buried  with  for- 
getfulness  ;  he  digs  away  the  accumulated  dirt,  delves  to  the  foundation, 
and  we  looked  upon  the  sad  story  written  in  letters  of  light.  The  Col- 
iseum by  moonlight !  Who  would  not  cross  the  broad  Atlantic  to  look 
upon  its  massive  walls  ? 

"A  ruin  —yet  what  ruin !  from  its  mass 

Walls,  palaces,  half  cities  have  beeu  reared  ; 
Yet  oft  the  enormous  skeleton  ye  pass, 

And  marvel  where  the  spoil  could  have  appeared. 
Hath  it  indeed  been  plundered  or  but  cleared  ? 

It  will  not  bear  the  brightness  of  the  day. 

Which  streams  too  much  on  all  years,  man,  have  reft  away. 

But  when  the  rising  moon  begins  to  climb 

Its  topmost  arch,  and  gently  pauses  there  ; 
When  the  stars  twinkle  through  the  loops  of  time, 

And  the  low  night  breeze  waves  along  the  air, 
The  garland  forest,  which  the  gray  walls  wear, 

Like  laurels  on  the  bald  first  Caesar's  head ; 
When  the  light  shines  serene  but  doth  not  glare, 

Then  in  this  magic  circle  raise  the  dead, 

Heroes  have  trod  this  spot,  'tis  on  their  dust  ye  tread." 

May  the  hand  of  memory  not  be  treacherous  in  delineation  that  we 
may  always  have  this  picture  before  us. 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC.  183 

Out  from  the  arches  of  the  old  amphitheatre  upon  the  old  Roman 
pavement  on  whose  broad  flat  stones  Cicero  marked  the  dignity  of  his 
orations,  and  Horace  measured  the  rhythm  of  his  verse,  perhaps  upon 
the  very  one  colored  by  the  blood  of  the  pure  Virginia  who  was  sacrificed 
by  her  father  to  be  saved  from  slavery,  along  the  Via  Sacra,  where  the 
sacrifices  of  Romulus  were  offered,  by  the  site  of  temples  in  their  ruined 
grandeur,  under  the  triumphal  arch  erected  to  Titus  when  he  had  con- 
quered Jerusalem  and  brought  the  Jews  here  as  captives,  by  those  columns 
looking  weird  in  the  broad  sunlight  and  in  the  dim  moonlight  spectral 
and  ghastly,  we  walked  over  the  space  which  is  narrow  in  steps  but  broad 
beyond  measure  in  important  events,  the  space  where  history  has  ex- 
hausted herself  and  lain  down  to  rest  between  the  hills  so  celebrated,  the 
Palatine  and  the  Capitoline,  the  space  most  famous  in  ancient  Rome —  the 
Roman  Forum.  Here  trod  the  man  who  was  once  nursed  by  a  wolf, 
here  lived  the  man  who  laid  the  foundation  of  Rome's  greatness ;  and 
Rome  to-day  feeds  and  nourishes,  in  a  cage  by  her  public  buildings,  the 
wolf,  as  the  preserver  of  her  founder. 

Another  day  when  the  first  pink  blossoms  had  appeared  on  the  almond 
tree,  we  walked  through  the  garden  gate  that  keeps  the  curious  from  the 
Tarpeian  Rock  without  the  payment  of  a  few  soldis,  and  stood  upon  the 
spot  which  was  always  a  place  of  great  interest ;  it  was  here  that  the 
woman  was  covered  with  shields  because  the  soldiers  bore  them  in  their 
left  hands,  and  that  was  what  they  had  promised  to  her  if  she  would  open 
the  gate  of  the  city  unto  them,  (she  meant  their  rings  and  bracelets.) 
False  men !  We  bent  over  the  parapet  and  imagined  the  sensation  of 
being  hurled  to  the  base  —  the  traitors  of  old  and  the  Capuchin  of  the 
Forum  by  the  Faun. 

Many  times  we  entered  the  Church  of  the  Capuchins,  standing  a  little 
off  the  Piazza  Barberini,  and  a  monk  with  the  brown  frock  and  cowl  drew 
the  curtain  from  before  Guido's  Archangel,  and  we  remembered  the  criti- 


184  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS 

cisms  of  the  heroine  of  our  tale  that  the  Archangel  is  too  feminine  and 
fair  and  gentle.  We  went  with  this  monk  to  the  basement,  through 
four  chapels  opening  one  into  the  other,  all  decorated  in  a  most  uncom- 
mon manner  with  the  different  bones  of  the  human  body,  put  together 
in  ways  to  represent  flowers,  and  trees,  and  bouquets  in  baskets,  and 
wreaths  and  various  things  which  are  ordinarily  pleasant  to  look  upon, 
but  here  ghastly  and  terrible.  In  the  little  space  of  ground  within  each 
chapel  is  soil  brought  from  Jerusalem,  in  which  twelve  can  be  buried  at 
a  time,  and  when  a  monk  of  this  order  dies,  the  one  who  has  lain  longest 
in  the  holy  ground  is  taken  up  to  give  place  to  his  brother,  and  his  bones 
are  taken  to  ornament  the  walls.  In  several  instances  the  body  is  in 
such  a  state  of  preservation  that  it  is  placed  entire  in  some  nook  or  cor- 
ner, and  there  grins  ever  at  the  living  and  the  dead.  Four  thousand 
bodies  have  lain  in  this  holy  earth  ;  but  no  more  will  lie  there,  for  Victor 
Emanuel  has  forbidden  to  bury  within  the  city.  Within  this  church,  in 
the  dim  light,  we  fancied  the  dead  monk  lying  in  brown  frock  and  cowl 
with  beads  and  crucifix  hanging  from  his  girdle,  just  as  he  had  been 
thrown  from  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  and  the  mournful  burial  chant  sounded 
in  our  ears,  and  we  shivered  with  the  heroes  of  "  Marble  Faun,"  who 
looked  upon  the  work  which  their  hands  had  wrought. 

The  Bambino  is  one  of  the  sights  of  Rome  and  we  will  describe  it  in 
the  words  of  another :  "  The  Bambino  is  a  wooden  figure  made  to  repre- 
sent the  infant  Jesus.  We  are  assured  that  it  was  made  from  a  tree  of 
the  Mount  of  Olives  and  carved  by  St.  Luke.  It  is  carefully  preserved 
in  a  casket  of  wood.  Its  dress  is  of  the  finest  fabrics  trimmed  with  lace 
and  covered  with  jewels.  Better  in  the  eyes  of  the  faithful  than  hydro- 
pathy, homeopathy,  or  allopathy  is  Bambinopathy.  In  times  of  dire  dis- 
tress it  is  taken  from  its  chapel  in  the  church  Ara  Coeli  and  carried  to 

ILLUSTRATIONS. — 1.  Capuchin  Monk.    2.  Burial  place  of  the  Capuchins.    3.  Beggar  Boy. 
4.  Bambino. 


-o   J 


ACROSS    THE   ATLANTIC.  185 

visit  the  sick,  who  either  die  or  get  well.  Michael  Angelo's  Moses  is  the 
piece  of  statuary  which  if  marble  could  speak  would  tell  us  tales  of  inter- 
est, but  it  looks  coldly  and  quietly  upon  all  transactions  within  the  church 
St.  Pietro  in  Vinculis. 

On  a  lovely  bright  day,  one  of  the  first  of  February,  having  finished 
one  of  those  penitential  pilgrimages  our  author  tells  us  about,  over  the 
little  lava  stones,  pointed  all  so  as  to  give  an  uneasy  feeling  to  the  walk- 
er's feet,  we  passed  through  the  Porto  del  Popolo,  in  company  with  the 
so-called  Faun,  to  visit  the  suburban  Villa  Borghese.  A  few  feet  from  the 
old,  old  walls,  a  few  paces  from  the  grim  old  gate,  (interesting,  however, 
because  we  knew  that  the  greatest-of  architects  made  the  design,)  the  syl- 
van spirit  takes  possession  of  us,  and  we  gaily  dance  along  the  graveled 
walks  under  the  graceful  boughs  of  the  ilex-trees,  bowing  and  bending 
and  extending  their  branches  until  they  form  a  continued  green  covering 
above  our  heads  ;  by  the  prim  poplars  and  the  shady  cypress ;  over  the 
starry  and  pink-petaled  daisies,  the  pretty  purple  anemones,  and  the 
golden-yellow  blossoms  which  nearly  carpet  the  ground.  Is  it  strange 
that  in  the  midst  of  this  sylvan  scene  we  fancied  the  Faun  with  his  furry 
ears,  and  the  Nymph  with  his  sunny  smile,  dancing  in  delight  through 
the  glassy  glades  ;  and,  when  the  delightful  day  drew  to  an  end  and  we 
went  back  to  the  walls  of  ancient  Rome,  —  is  it  strange  that  we  felt  we 
had  spent  a  day  in  romance  and  in  fable  ? 

Again,  when  February  was  just  bidding  adieu  to  her  consort  Spring, 
the  visit  was  repeated  to  this  same  Borghese  Villa  —  this  same  sylvan 
grove  —  and  returning  with  hands  laden  with  bright  blossoms,  we  took  a 
stroll  on  the  Pincian.  Up  from  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  from  the  very  foot 
of  that  old  red  obelisk,  which  is  one  of  the  eleven  these  roaming  Romans 
have  brought  from  the  Nile  and  left  but  eight  to  cast  their  long  shadows 
there ;  up  by  the  smooth,  hard  road,  which  makes  many  acute  angles  in 
its  course,  to  the  proud  peak  of  the  Pincian  ;  up  to  that  point  which  over- 
24 


1 86  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS; 

looks  that  bit  of  the  oldest,  old  wall,  (hardly  the  one  that  Remus  leapt 
over,  however,  for  methinks  it  is  rather  too  high  for  that,)  the  Muro 
Torto  ;  and,  standing  with  faces  toward  the  dim,  distant  Soracti,  looking 
over  the  Campagna  lying  without  the  walls,  a  visionary  Faun  walked 
through  the  Flaminian  Gate,  soon  followed  by  those  other  fictitious  char- 
acters so  closely  connected  with  our  tale.  We  went  slowly  beside  the 
parapet,  winding  our  way  among  the  crowds  of  people  speaking  in  almost 
every  language  but  Italian,  in  the  midst  of  carriages  bearing  many  who 
like  ourselves  came  from  the  far  Western  wilds,  by  the  side  of  amuse- 
ments which  recalled  the  gay  Champs  Elyse"es  and  brought  together  all 
ages  and  ranks  ;  we  looked  upon  Rome,  the  Rome  of  all  time.  We  saw 
St.  Peter's,  the  church  of  the  world,  over  which  the  spirit  of  Michael 
Angelo  seems  to  hover ;  we  saw  the  round  Pantheon  with  the  relics  of 
Raphael,  whose  single  eye  looks  constantly  heavenward  ;  we  saw — we 
saw  —  we  saw  all  this  city  which  has  stood  so  long  that  it  has  become  its 
own  sepulchre,  which  has  covered  and  dug  up  its  own  bones,  which  has 
burned  and  resurrected  its  offspring.  We  looked  upon  the  evening  sun- 
set, we  listened  to  the  vesper  bells,  and  from  the  summit  of  the  oft 
ascended  steps,  from  the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  we  went  down  the  Via  Sis- 
tina,  and  near  the  Fountain  of  the  Triton  refreshed  tired  nature  with 
food  and  drink  requisite  for  the  occasion. 


NORTHERN  ITALY. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

'OME  has  become  a  vision  of  the  past,  gone  with  her  walls 
and  her  hills  and  her  ruins  and  her  Tiber  into  the  store- 
house of  memory,  with  Naples  and  her  dreamy  bay,  with 
Venice  and  her  funereal  gondolas,  with  all  Italy  and  her 
sunny  views.  In  the  light  of  the  twinkling  stars  we  drank 
our  au  revoir  from  the  waters  of  Trevi,  and  slept  one  more 
night  in  the  city  where  seven  weeks  had  passed  as  a  day.  Then  began 
our  course  from  Italy  to  England,  from  Rome  to  London,  from  the  Tiber 
to  the  Thames,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Atlantic,  and  with  fair 
Spring  everywhere  greeting  us,  we  were  homeward  bound. 

A  day's  ride  of  but  little  interest,  through  a  country  which  looked  as 
though  it  had  delivered  up  its  wealth  in  ages  long  gone  by,  or  was  wait- 
ing for  the  presence  of  our  goddess  to  restore  the  powers  which  Winter 
had  benumbed,  brought  us  to  Pisa,  where,  we  need  not  tell  our  friends, 
the  celebrated  Tower  has  leaned  for  more  than  six  hundred  years  and 
been  a  source  of  attraction  to  thousands  visiting  the  land.  Of  course 
we  went  to  its  very  summit,  up  the  stairs  which  wind  about  its  eight 
stories,  and  there  sat  down  to  contemplate  the  scene.  Although  our 
point  of  observation  overhung  the  base  to  the  extent  of  fifteen  feet,  yet 
we  felt  no  fear,  for  the  centre  of  gravity  lay  ten  feet  within  the  base,  and 
we  looked  upon  the  sun,  as  it  went  out  of  sight,  in  perfect  composure, 
and  rejoiced  that  its  brilliant  setting  portended  a  fine  day  for  our  ride 
over  the  Appenines. 


1 88  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

It  was  even  so,  the  finest  of  days,  and  seven  o'clock  saw  us  at  the 
depot  for  the  short  ride  to  the  Gulf  of  Spezia,  where  we  took  the  more 
desirable  carriage,  throwing  back  its  top  to  let  us  look  upon  the  grand 
mountain  scenery,  and  drawn  by  four  noble  steeds.  Over  the  Appenines ! 
In  Italy  especially,  the  bays  are  beautiful,  the  lakes  are  lovely,  and  the 
cities  are  curious ;  but  on  the  morning  of  which  we  write  the  country 
was  charming  and  the  mountains  magnificent.  The  wand  of  Spring  had 
produced  a  magical  effect,  and  a  halo  of  freshness  encircled  the  earth,  a 
golden  haze  floated  in  the  air.  The  little  village  of  Spezia  looked  like 
an  Aladdin's  palace  on  the  borders  of  the  bright  water,  gilded  with  the 
lustre  of  the  sun's  rays,  and  it  is  not  strange  that  the  Romans  called  it 
the  Portus  Lunae  (Gate  of  the  Moon) ;  indeed,  we  fancied  we  were 
accompanying  the  identical  Old  Man  whose  features  are  so  often  traced 
by  the  romantic  in  the  fair  orb  of  Luna,  for  the  route  was  so  enchant- 
ing ;  the  modest  little  marguerites  nestled  along  the  roadside  and  the 
golden  anemones  were  showered  upon  us,  while  little  feet  kept  pace  with 
the  rolling  wheels  and  little  hands  were  extended  into  our  very  midst, 
pleading  that  it  was  better  for  us  to  give  than  to  receive.  The  peaks 
appeared  in  rapid  succession,  but  just  as  rapidly  disappeared,  and  it  was 
all  one  beautiful,  changing  panorama.  Our  guide  did  not  for  one  moment 
desert  us,  although  she  was  not  so  profuse  in  the  variety  she  presented 
the  entire  route,  and  on  the  neighboring  summits  we  could  see  that 
Winter  had  not  yet  yielded  the  sceptre  to  the  queen  following  so  closely 
upon  his  footsteps.  All  along  our  winding  way  occasional  glimpses 
of  the  sparkling  sea  contrasted  beautifully  with  the  bare  brown  rocks 
and  the  sombre  evergreens  and  the  purple  heather,  and  our  trip  across 
the  Appenines,  with  our  number  increased  by  the  addition  of  two  to  our 
party,  will  ever  be  prominent  in  our  "  sunny  memories  of  foreign  lands." 

The  mountains  crossed,  the  sea-shore  reached,  and  then  commenced 
such  a  roaring,  and  screeching,  and  diving  into  darkness,  that  we  could 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  189 

imagine  we  were  playing  hide-and-seek  with  the  imps  of  the  infernal 
realms.  It  was,  however,  only  the  cars  passing  in  and  out  from  the 
many  tunnels  on  the  road  to  Genoa. 

From  the  home  of  Columbus  to  Milan  and  Lake  Como  —  the  lake  so 
famous,  so  justly  famous ;  the  lake  whose  beauties  the  artist  has  deline- 
ated with  the  tints  of  the  rainbow  and  the  shades  of  the  sunset,  which 
the  poet  has  portrayed  in  sweet-sounding  rhyme  and  soft- rolling  verse, 
but  whose  beauties  are  best  seen  from  the  hand  of  the  Master  Artist  and 
in  the  book  of  Nature.  Our  place  of  sojourn  was  at  Bellaggio,  where 
the  two  arms  come  up  from  Lucca  and  from  Como,  unite  in  one  body, 
and  flow  on  in  one  round  of  loveliness, 

It  was  at  the  broad  hour  of  noon  that  the  Three  went  forth  from  the 
little,  close  Italian  town,  leaving  behind  the  workers  in  olive-wood,  and 
going  up  higher  to  sit  under  the  vine  and  olive,  there  to  feast  the  body 
and  please  the  mind,  to  delight  the  eye  and  rejoice  the  soul.  Picnics  are 
always  pleasant  affairs,  and  we  remember  many  in  the  year  of  wandering 
and  some  in  the  years  before  we  crossed  the  sea,  but  none  with  more 
pleasure  than  the  one  taken  on  the  heights  of  Bel  Monte  the  first  day 
of  April,  1874.  The  sky  was  our  covering,  of  a  blue  so  fair  and  yet  so 
deep  that  it  seemed  to  reach  to  the  very  portal  of  heaven,  and  the  fleecy 
clouds,  so  soft  and  white,  sailed  swiftly  on  toward  the  haven  of  rest. 
The  mountains  in  the  dim  distance  lifted  their  snowy  summits  so  ethe- 
rially  and  so  uncertainly  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  where  earth  was 
finished  and  heaven  begun,  and  the  peaks  in  the  near  horizon  rolled 
along  like  the  billows  of  ocean,  bearing  upon  their  breasts  the  moving 
shadows  of  the  clouds.  The  hand  of  the  early  springtime  was  upon 
everything  about  us  ;  tenderest  green  decked  the  brown  branches,  varied 
with  the  pink  of  the  prunella  and  peach,  and  the  shrubs  were  so  delicate 
that  we  scarcely  knew  whether  they  bore  leaves  or  flowers,  while  the 
golden  anemones  shone  in  the  grass  by  the  side  of  the  meek  and  modest 


190  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

daisies.  On  our  right  and  on  our  left,  down  through  the  vines  and  olives, 
all  this  loveliness  was  repeated  over  and  over  again  in  the  waters  of  the 
two  lakes  as  they  rolled  around  the  green  point  with  its  far-seeing  palace, 
and  joyfully  leaped  on  to  receive  together  the  sunny  skies  and  silvery 
clouds,  the  snow-capped  mountains  and  vine-clad  hills.  Who  would  not 
have  enjoyed  the  picnic  on  Lake  Como  ? 

A  sail  of  two  and  a  half  hours,  a  flying  trip  on  the  railroad,  and 
we  halt  at  Milan,  and  at  early  sunrise  visit  the  Cathedral.  "  Strange, 
pure,  immaculate  mountain  of  airy  unearthly  loveliness — the  most  striking 
emblem  of  God's  mingled  vastness  and  sweetness  that  ever  it  was  given 
to  human  heart  to  desire  or  hands  to  execute.  If  there  be  among  the 
many  mansions  of  our  Father  above,  among  the  houses  not  made  with 
hands,  aught  purer  and  fairer,  it  must  be  the  work  of  those  grand  spirits 
who  inspired  and  presided  over  the  erection  of  this  celestial  miracle  of 
beauty — thousands  of  glorified  saints  standing  on  a  thousand  airy  points 
of  brilliant  whiteness  ever  solemnly  adoring.  It  had  the  etherial  trans- 
lucence  of  wintry  frost-work.  The  beautiful  plains  of  Lombardy  lie  be- 
neath like  a  map,  and  the  northern  horizon  line  is  glittering  with  the 
entire  sweep  of  the  Alps  like  a  solemn  senate  of  archangels  with  diamond 
mail  and  glittering  crowns.  Mount  Blanc,  Monte  Rosa  with  its  counte- 
nance of  light,  the  Jungfrau,  and  all  the  weird  brothers  of  the  Oberland, 
rise  one  after  another  to  the  delighted  gaze  and  the  range  of  the  Tyrol 
melts  far  off  into  the  blue  of  the  sky.  On  another  side  the  Apennines, 
with  their  picturesque  outlines  and  cloud-spotted  sides,  complete  the  en- 
closure. All  around  is  the  unbroken  phalanx  of  mountains.  And  this 
temple,  with  its  thousand  saintly  statues  standing  in  attitudes  of  ecstacy 
and  prayer,  seems  like  a  worthy  altar  and  shrine  for  the  beautiful  plain 
which  the  mountains  enclose  ;  it  seems  to  give  all  northern  Italy  to  God. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Tower  of  Pisa.     2.  Leaning  Tower  of  Bologna,  (see   page    140.)    3. 
Milan  Cathedral.    4.  Leonardo  da  Vinci.    5.  Last  Supper. 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  IQI 

One  can  fancy  there  a  band  of  white-robed  kings  and  priests  forever 
ministering  in  that  great  temple  of  which  the  Alps  and  the  Apennines 
are  the  walls  and  the  Cathedral  the  heart  and  centre.  Never  were  Na- 
ture and  Art  so  majestically  married  by  Religion  in  so  worthy  a%  temple." 
So  says  Mrs.  Stowe,  and  ^we  say,  of  all  the  beautiful  things  our  eyes 
looked  upon  in  foreign  lands,  nothing  could  surpass  the  summit  of  Milan 
Cathedral. 

At  Milan,  too,  is  that  most  beautiful  production  of  the  hand  of  man  — 
the  Last  Supper  —  painted  on  the  wall  of  a  room  where  one  would  scarce 
look  for  aught  of  this  kind.  In  the  refectory  of  a  convent,  which  has 
even  been  used  as  a  stable,  is  the  original  of  the  painting  which  estab- 
lished the  reputation  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  "  He  was  occupied  two 
years  in  painting  this  picture.  The  knowledge  of  character  displayed  in 
the  heads  of  the  different  Apostles  is  even  more  wonderful  than  the  skill- 
ful arrangement  of  the  figures  and  the  amazing  beauty  of  the  workman- 
ship. The  space  occupied  by  the  picture  is  a  wall  twenty-eight  feet  in 
length,  the  figures  being  larger  than  life.  Leonardo  has  contrived  to 
break  the  formality  of  the  line  of  heads  without  any  apparent  artifice,  and 
without  disturbing  the  general  simplicity  and  order,  and  has  imparted 
to  a  solemn  scene  sufficient  movement  and  variety  of  action  without 
detracting  from  its  dignity  and  pathos  ;  he  has  kept  the  expression  of 
each  head  true  to  its  traditional  character,  without  exaggeration,  without 
effort.  The  intellectual  elevation,  the  fineness  of  nature,  the  benign 
God-like  dignity,  suffused  with  the  profoundest  sorrow  in  Christ,  sur- 
passes all  conceived  as  possible  in  art." — "  Sacred  legendary  Art." 


HOMEWARD  BOUND. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

ORE  than  four  months  before,  we  entered  Italy  on 
Thanksgiving  Day,  and  coming  over  the  peaks  where 
Winter  had  already  spread  her  white  carpet,  we  left  the 
snowy  regions  and  dwelt  in  one  long,  continual  springtime. 
On  one  of  the  first  days  of  April  we  took  our  places  in  the 
cars,  with  hearts  full  of  thanksgiving  that  we  had  wandered 
in  the  lands  where  the  pious  -/Eneas,  and  Romulus  and  Remus,  and 
scores  of  others  whose  names  are  written  in  the  book  of  fame,  wandered 
before  us.  We  came  over  the  mountains,  but  we  went  under  the  moun- 
tains —  not,  however,  until  we  had  gone  up  so  high  that  we  greatly  feared 
Spring  would  retreat  and  leave  us  in  the  icy  hands  from  which  we  had 
been  striving  all  these  months  to  escape.  We  passed  through  tunnels 
innumerable,  and  finally,  in  the  midst  of  fast-falling  snow-flakes,  entered 
that  longest  one  which  the  world  yet  knows,  and  passed  over  seven  and 
a  half  miles  where  the  sun  never  shines  —  thirty-five  minutes  under  the 
ground. 

In  France  we  saw  the  light  again,  and  here  too  the  snow  was  falling 
upon  Mont  Cenis  ;  but  we  steamed  on,  and  one  day  more  brought  us  to 
the  beautiful  city  of  Paris. 

A  few  hours  ride  from  this  justly-famed  city,  our  car — "Pour  les 
Dames" — was  entered  by  four  French  dames  of  the  type  we  have 
always  imagined  those  of  the  terrible  days  of  the  French  Revolution  —  of 


ACROSS   THE  ATLANTIC. 

the  days  so  graphically  described  in  the  Tale  of  Two  Cities,  when  the 
"  Sharp  maiden  La  Guillotine  "  received  so  many  victories  from  the  hands 
of  the  rough  French  women.  These  women  did  not  wear  the  tri-colored 
cockade,  but  that  which  was  somewhat  akin  to  it — the  high-colored 
turban  ;  and  as  Madame  Defarge  was  always  knitting  during  the  Reign 
of  Terror,  they  were  busily  plying  their  needles  in  the  bustle  and  jar  of 
travel ;  they  lost  nothing,  however,  that  was  passing  about  them.  Two 
other  women  were  occupying  the  car,  each  with  a  child  ;  first  they  cate- 
chised the  little  French  girl  and  learned  all  the  circumstances  of  the  past 
and  present,  then  commenced  with  the  American  girl,  who  scarcely  knew 
how  to  answer  their  questions.  After  they  had  asked  for  a  song  in  the 
English  language,  it  was  but  meet  and  proper  that  they  should  sing  the 
Marseillaise  in  the  accent  and  style  of  the  true  French  citizeness  ;  but  at 
the  suggestion  they  seemed  to  shrink  and  not  to  realize  that  the  watch- 
words of  the  French  Republic  —  "  Liberte,  Egalite,  Fraternite"" — were 
the  rule  and  order  of  the  day.  After  some  consultation,  however,  one  of 
their  number  sang,  in  low  tones,  the  grand  old  air  which  has  so  incited 
"Aux  armes,  ciloyens"  So  we  heard  the  Marseillaise  sung  by  a  French 
woman  in  her  own  patrie.  Six  weeks  among  the  people,  whose  native 
tongue  takes  the  traveler  throughout  Europe,  six  weeks  in  their  schools 
and  their  churches,  in  their  shops  and  their  homes,  six  weeks  with  the 
daily  gazette  in  our  hands  to  inform  us  of  the  transactions  in  the  capital 
city. 

One  item  of  news  on  the  first  days  of  May  was  the  following  : — "  Les 
premieres  cerises  de  Vanuee  vrennint  de  faire  leur  apparition  a  Paris" 
Cherries  !  ,ierry  is  excellent  for  the  teeth  in  our  native  land,  why  not 
in  the  land  across  the  Atlantic  ?  Again,  "  /  mai,  grandes  eaux  a  Ver- 
sailles" Preparations  were  immediately  made  to  attend  the  grand  play 
of  waters  at  the  Palace  of  Versailles,  and  on  the  morning  designated  we 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Palace  of  Versailles,  Forest  and  Fountains. 
25 


194  tJNITEt)   STATES   GlfctS 

could  not  afford  the  time  for  the  exercise  of  pedestrianism,  so  we  took  a 
somewhat  novel  mode  of  patronizing  steam  and  the  iron  road.  On  the 
top  of  the  cars,  where  it  was  somewhat  airy,  but  from  which  was  obtained 
a  magnificent  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  we  rode  twelve  miles  to 
visit  Versailles.  Versailles  !  the  hunting  ground  of  the  Louis,  sixty  miles 
in  circumference,  the  home  of  monarchs  for  an  entire  century,  the  palace 
where  the  guards  of  Marie  Antoinette  were  massacred,  and  the  room 
where  she  was  sleeping  when  the  mob  burst  upon  her,  the  Grand  and 
Petit  Trianons  where  the  Louis  kept  their  madames  in  luxury  and  ease, 
the  most  interesting  combination  of  nature  and  art,  the  great  forest  trees 
varied  with  statues  and  fountains.  (Oh  !  who  can  describe  them  ?)  Paris 
is  the  capital  of  France,  but  it  is  at  Versailles  that  the  Assembly  meets  in 
modern  days  and  administers  rule  to  the  young  republic  "  Vive  la  Re- 
pub Clique  !  " 

On  the  1 4th  of  May,  1874,  we  said  our  final  adietix  au  Paris  at  the 
mid-day  hour,  crossed  the  Marne  (truly  meandering)  eight  times,  came 
in  close  proximity  to  the  residences  of  the  familiar  French  writers  Bos- 
suet,  La  Fontaine,  and  Rousseau,  saw  the  place  where  Attila  was  de- 
feated in  431,  and  after  a  ride  of  twenty  hours  reached  the  Argentora- 
tum  of  ancient  history —  the  city  which  the  Romans  took  from  the  Celts 
before  the  time  of  Christ  —  Strasburg,  which  for  the  last  centuries  has 
been  so  much  in  doubt  as  to  whether  they  should  acknowledge  Germany 
the  Vaterland,  and  drink  lager  beer,  singing,  "  Fest  steht  ^^nd  treu  die 
Wacht  die  Wacht  am  Rkeim"  or  "  Enfants  de  la  Patrie  France','  should 
march  to  the  music  of  the  Marseillaise  sipping  the  sweet  wines.  The 
tallest  church  spire  which  the  world  can  claim  meets  the  eye  of  the  trav- 
eler long  before  he  enters  this  contested  city,  and  unrolls  its  beautiful  lace 
work  from  base  to  pinnacle.  (This  spire  is  468  feet  high,  only  24  feet 

ILLUSTRATIONS.—  1.  Cathedral  and  the  Storks.    2.  Old  Palace.    3.  Clock.    4.  Statue  of  Gut- 
teuberg,  Inventor  of  Printing.    5.  Inventor  of  the  Clock.    6.  Reformers. 


tfmrfrltrttmn.ll 


tfin>lr111rfcr 


ACROSS    THE    ATLANTIC.  IQ5 

less  than  the  tallest  Egyptian  pyramid.)     It  is  not  strange  that  some  of 
the  random  shots  from  French  or  German  cannon  should  have  disturbed 
somewhat  the  well-wrought  patterns,  but  it  is  much  more  strange  that  it 
should  stand  a  cathedral  still  in  spite  of  siege  with  shot  and  shell.     We 
shall  attempt  to  enlarge  upon  only  one  of  the  many  points  of  this  inter- 
esting structure  —  the  astronomical   clock,  the  wonder   of    the   world, 
invented  in  1573.     At  the  base  of  this  clock  stands  a  globe  representing 
the  motions  of  our  planetary  system.     The  earth  moves  around  the  plane 
of  its  orbit  in  24  hours,  Saturn  in  30  years,  Jupiter  in  12,  Mars  in  2,  the 
Sun,  Mercury  and  Venus  in  I,  and  the  Moon  in  one  month.     In  the  mid- 
dle frame  is  an  artrolabe  showing  the  daily  positions  of  each  planet  in  the 
signs  of  the  zodiac.     There  is  the  skull  of  a  dead  man  and  statues  of  two 
boys,  one  of  whom  turns  the  hour-glass  when  the  clock  has  struck  ;  the 
other  puts  forth  the  rod  in  his  hand  at  each  stroke  of  the  clock.     There 
are  statues  of  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn  and  Winter.     Youth,  Old  Age 
and  Death   strike  the  quarters,  passing  around  in  procession  with  meas- 
ured pace  every  hour  and  standing  between  the  quarters  with  face  or  back 
in  view,  the  going  and  the  coming,  the  past  and  the  future.     But  at  the 
mid-day  hour  the  room  is  crowded  to  witness  the  procession  of  the  twelve 
apostles  which  daily  walk  around  at  the  very  summit,  each  bowing  low  as 
he  comes  in  front  of  the  Saviour  to  receive  his  benediction,  while  the 
cock  claps  his  wings  and  crows  clearly  three  times  before  Peter  denies 
his  Lord. 

Everywhere  a  pleasant  picture  was  presented  to  view  of  feathered 
families  watching  over  the  city  oft-disturbed,  as  the  goose  saved  the 
Roman  capital  from  the  invasion  of  savage  hordes,  only  that  was  in  the 
night  time,  and  it  is  under  the  eye  of  bright  old  Sol  that  the  storks  take 
their  stand  as  sentinels  of  Strasburg.  May  their  nests  be  undisturbed 
and  their  families  unbroken  by  the  shrill  war  trumpet  and  the  leaden 
bullet  of  death,  but  may  the  spirit  of  Gutenburg  hover  over  the  scene 
and  carry  forward  the  invention  he  gave  to  the  world  —  printing. 


UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

One  mile  away  Father  Rhine  takes  his  waters  joyfully  on  toward  the 
castles  and  invites  us  again  to  seek  what  before  became  to  us  "  Chateaux 
en  Espagne?  (castles  in  the  air.)  But  we  turn  a  deaf  ear  for  we  have 
heard  of  Heidelberg  Castle,  (which,  "  next  to  the  Alhambra  of  Grenada,  is 
the  most  magnificent  ruin  of  the  middle  ages,")  and  Heidelberg  University, 
and  we  spend  a  Sabbath  on  the  banks  of  the  Neckar,  in  the  region  so  re- 
plete with  incidents  of  the  Reformation,  we  enter  that  famous  church 
where  Jerome  of  Prague,  the  friend  of  Huss,  fastened  his  theses  ;  and  a 
more  wonderful  church  still  which  accommodates  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants under  one  and  the  same  roof,  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  where 
we  read  on  the  walls  "  Eine  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott"  and  just  before  the 
door  we  saw  the  faces  of  the  well-known  reformers,  Luther,  Huss,  Jerome 
of  Prague,  etc.  Above  the  picturesque  Neckar  to  the  castle,  around 
Heidelberg  Tun,  the  largest  cask  in  the  world,  capable  of  containing  800 
hogsheads  but  which  was 'never  filled  but  once,  and  we  came  back  to  rest 
in  our  room  at  the  hotel,  when  a  glance  from  the  window  showed  an  exhi- 
bition so  truly  unique  that  we  were  anxious  to  see  it  —  a  dog  dance.  In  a 
rumbling  cart  rode  eight  or  ten  varieties  of  the  canine  race,  from  the  wee 
poodle  to  the  grim  old  mastiff,  all  sitting  like  majors  on  the  seats  pre- 
pared for  them  ;  and  when  they  were  placed  upon  the  ground  and  their 
captain,  with  two  legs  instead  of  four,  made  music  and  called  off  for  them 
to  dance,  they  did  better  than  some  we  have  seen  in  parlors,  and  we 
are  sure  that  the  German  dogs  are  accomplished  in  this  line  at  least. 

Through  Worms,  where  we  had  a  little  quarrel  with  the  conductor, 
just  to  remember  the  city  where  Luther  was  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  Diet,  (not  where  he  dieted  on  worms,  as  a  certain  little  girl  under- 
stood it,)  we  arrive  at  Mayence,  where  we  take  a  rapid  retrospect  of  the 
glimpses  we  have  had  of  the  river  on  whose  banks  we  stand,  ready  to 
"  try  the  realities  of  a  sail  on  the  Rhine.  No  one  can  say  that  the  Three 

^ILLUSTRATION. — (Jathedral  of  Strasburg. 


ACROSS   THE    ATLANTIC. 

did  not  stand  at  its  very  source  when  they  walked  in  the  cloud  over  the 
Pass  of  St.  Gothard,  where  the  cold  waters  rolled  from  their  icy  bed  and 
bathed  their  feet  as  they  wandered  almost  lost  in  the  mist  and  fog ;  at 
Schaff hausen  its  waters  dashed  over  the  rocks,  and  we  sailed  with  them, 
all  befogged,  on  to  Lake  Constance,  not  a  castle  taking  form  to  our 
searching  eyes  ;  but  at  a  time  when  March  winds  and  April  showers 
and  May  flowers  all  formed  part  of  a  glorious  Spring  day,  we  were 
launched  upon  the  waters  which  romance  and  reality  have  alike  invested 
with  interest,  and  sailed  along  the  banks  where  fable  and  fact  have  striven 
to  outdo  each  other  in  incident  and  act. 

Bulwer  says  : — "  What  the  Tiber  is  to  the  classic,  the  Rhine  is  to  the 
chivalric  age.  The  steep  rock  and  the  gray,  dismantled  tower,  the  mas- 
sive and  rude  picturesque  of  the  feudal  days,  constitute  the  great  feature 
of  the  scene  ;  you  might  almost  fancy,  as  you  are  sailing  along,  that  you 
are  gliding  back  down  the  river  of  Time,  the  monuments  of  the  pomp 
and  power  of  old  rising,  one  after  another,  upon  its  shores." 

It  was  a  suitable  starting-place,  where  the  ruins  of  the  ramparts 
of  Drusus  Germanicus  and  remnants  of  the  fortifications  of  Augustus 
Caesar  mingled  with  the  modern  martial  appearance  of  this  strong  Ger- 
man fortress  ;  and  with  the  "  Legends  "  in  our  hands  and  the  castellated 
banks  before  our  eyes,  we  were  at  a  loss  as  to  whether  we  were  creatures 
of  to-day  or  roaming  spirits  of  other  days  Oh,  what  castles  we  saw 
and  what  castles  we  built  that  day  on  the  Rhine !  —  castles  among  the 
rivers  and  castles  among  the  clouds,  castles  that  time  has  crumbled  and 
left  more  beautiful  as  the  centuries  rolled  by,  and  castles  that  the  winds 
of  heaven  have  scattered  and  gathered  together  —  the  were  and  the  to  be ; 
but  "  King  Rhine  "  ruled  over  them  all,  and  we  were  his  most  devoted 
subjects.  That  these  beauties  might  linger  and  not  vanish  like  castles 
in  the  air,  we  landed  at  fair  Bingen,  so  touchingly  bewailed  by  "  a  soldier 
of  the  legion  "  who  "  lay  dying  in  Algiers,"  and  we  wandered  for  hours 


IQ8  UNITED    STATES    GIRLS 

in  the  Drusus  castle,  where  the  Caesars  looked  down  from  the  green 
walls  upon  us,  and  we  looked  down  into  the  dungeons  where  kings  have 
been  captives  ;  also  by  the  Mouse  Tower,  rising  from  a  picturesque 
island,  where  the  mice  followed  Bishop  Hatto  and  devoured  his  body, 
which  incident  Southey  has  versified  as  a  warning  to  those  who  are 
unkind  to  the  poor.  We  viewed  the  Ehrenfels,  hanging  upon  the  rock 
on  the  opposite  bank,  and  the  Niederwald,  so  high  that  eagles  and  rob- 
bers alone  would  make  it  a  home,  and  we  slept  in  their  shadow,  the 
moon  adding  her  soft  tale  to  the  many  already  told. 

Another  day  was  filled  with  visions  fair — the  peaks  where  firm  and 
true  stands  the  Watch  on  the  Rhine,  and  where  the  beautiful  syren  sings 
her  sweet  song  and  lures  the  unwary  to  destruction. 

"  High,  and  dark,  and  massive,  swell  the  towers  and  rock  of  Ehren- 
breitstein,  a  type  of  that  great  chivalric  spirit  —  the  honor  that  the  rock 
arrogates  for  its  name,  which  demands  so  many  sacrifices  of  blood  and 
tears,  but  which  ever  creates  in  the  restless  heart  of  man  a  far  deeper 
interest  than  the  more  peaceful  scenes  of  life  by  which  it  is  contrasted." 
Ehrenbreitstein  commands  the  Rhine  and  the  Moselle,  and  just  opposite, 
at  Coblentz,  ("  Confluentia,")  is  the  church  where  the  grandsons  of 
Charlemagne  met  to  divide  the  countries  of  Germany,  France  and  Italy. 
We  went  back  to  the  time,  too,  when  Caesar  crossed  the  Rhine,  seven- 
teen centuries  ago.  Back  amidst  the  sloping  mountains  the  famous 
battle  between  paganism  and  Christianity  was  fought  and  the  cross 
appeared  to  Constantine,  and  wars  innumerable  have  been  carried  on 
upon  these  banks.  Lastly  the  Siebengebirge  (Seven  Mountains)  rose  in 
grandeur  and  bade  us  adieu  as  we  sailed  under 

"The  castled  crag  of  Drachenfels." 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Bingen  with  Ehrenbreitstein  on  the  left  and  Rheinstein  on  the  right.  2. 
Van  Dyck  and  Rubens.  3.  Cathedral  at  Cologne.  4.  Cathedral  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  where  Char- 
lemagne is  buried.  5.  Royal  Family  of  England.  6.  Kenilworth  Castle  in  the  16th  century 
and  in  the  19th. 


Tti£  ATLANTIC. 

The  glories  of  the  Rhine  are  passed,  and  we  marvel  and  dream  till  we 
reach  Cologne.  Cologne !  City  best  known  to  the  world  in  general  by 
the  fragrant  liquid,  eau  de  Cologne,  which  constitutes  so  important  an 
item  in  the  boudoir  of  the  beau  and  belle,  (much  of  which,  however, 
never  comes  further  than  from  the  walls  of  their  own  apothecary  shop,) 
—  city  which  owes  its  origin  to  Marcus  Agrippa,  the  Roman  who  first 
placed  a  camp  on  one  of  the  surrounding  hills,  and  its  name  to  Agrip- 
pina,  the  mother  of  the  infamous  Nero,  who  was  born  in  the  camp  of  her 
father,  Germanicus,  and  the  place  was  called  Colonia  Agrippina,  whence 
Cologne.  This  city  appropriates  its  part  of  the  legends  of  the  Rhine,  as 
the  Church  of  St.  Ursula  with  its  bones  of  eleven  thousand  virgins  mur- 
dered by  Attila,  and  the  Cathedral  with  its  monument  to  the  three  Magi 
who  came  from  the  East  to  worship  Christ,  would  show.  Here  is  one 
of  the  masterpieces  of  Rubens,  the  Crucifixion  of  the  Apostle  with  his 
head  downwards,  in  the  church  where  is  still  shown  the  font  in  which  he 
was  baptized. 

Now  farewell  to  the  waters  of  the  Rhine,  for  we  go  by  rail  to  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  so  closely  connected  with  the  name  of  Charlemagne.  The 
cathedral  here  was  commenced  in  796,  under  Charlemagne,  who  lies  in 
the  centre  of  the  octagon  beneath  the  dome,  so  that  the  sun  at  mid-day 
falls  directly  upon  his  tomb.  We  were  told  that  in  the  year  1000  his 
grave  was  opened  and  the  chair  in  which  he  was  buried  sitting  now 
stands  in  the  Town  Hall  with  other  relics  and  mementoes  of  the  great 
Charles.  Here  ended  the  career  of  one  who  swayed  gracefully  the  rod 
of  empire,  and  lay  down  in  the  midst  of  the  monuments  he  had  reared 
to  sleep  the  last  long  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  From  Rome  to  Aix- 
la-Chapelle  his  name  and  his  statues  are  frequently  met,  and  here  we 
leave  him  in  his  last  home.  Truly  every  place,  as  well  as  person,  has  its 
own  peculiarities,  and  the  one  we  observed  in  the  German  Aachen  (Aix) 
was  that  all  marriage  ceremonies  are  performed  in  the  Rathhaus  or  Town 


266  UNITED  STATES  GIRLS 

Hall,  and  on  the  occasion  of  our  visit  to  that  locality  nine  waiting  couples 
were  watching  the  minute-hand  to  see  when  the  hour  of  twelve  would 
arrive ! 

At  Brussels,  the  Belgian  capital,  begin  the  beautiful  carvings  in  wood 
which  adorn  the  cathedrals.  Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  celebrated  chief  of  the 
First  Crusade,  rides  as  life-like  in  the  Royal  Square  as  if  leading  his  fol- 
lowers in  the  glorious  cause  ;  and  Egmont  and  Horn  stand  in  front  of  the 
house  where  they  spent  the  night  before  their  execution. 

Ten  miles  from  Brussels  is  the  field  of  Waterloo,  where  in  four  days 
of  the  year  1815  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  men  gave  their  lives 
to  decide  the  fate  of  Europe  and  send  Napoleon  the  Great  to  the  island 
of  St.  Helena. 

It  is  enough  to  say  of  Antwerp  that  it  is  the  commercial  capital 
of  Belgium,  on  the  Scheldt,  and  the  birthplace  of  Rubens  and  Van  Dyck. 
The  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  contains  the  Elevation  to  and  the  Descent 
from  the  Cross,  beside  many  other  of  the  finest  paintings  of  Rubens. 
In  the  Church  of  St.  James  is  his  Holy  Family,  in  which  he  copied  the 
members  of  his  family,  and  here  too  is  his  own  tomb.  Rubens  and  Van 
Dyck  are  highly  honored  in  their  native  city,  and  their  statues  are 
prominent  in  the  most  public  place.  A  curious  lesson  is  taught  by  one 
of  the  paintings.  In  the  Museum  at  Antwerp,  the  "  Fallen  Angels  "  was 
the  production  of  a  leading  artist,  who  had  decided  that  none  but  an 
artist  should  claim  his  daughter's  hand.  Unfortunately  she  was  loved 
and  sought  by  one  who  was  only  a  blacksmith,  and  he  learned  the 
irrevocable  decision  of  the  father  of  the  young  lady.  Nothing  daunted, 
however,  he  abandoned  his  original  trade  and  took  up  the  brush.  After 
months  of  indefatigable  study,  he  visited  the  artist's  studio,  and  seeing 
this  painting  just  completed,  he  represented  an  enormous  bee  crawling 
on  the  thigh  of  one  of  the  angels,  so  perfect  that  one  shudders  and 
almost  feels  the  sting,  and  so  perfect  that  Flors  received  Matsys  as  his 


ACROSS   THE  ATLANTIC.  2OI 

son-in-law.  We  need  not  always  keep  the  same  position  in  life,  if  we 
have  only  energy  and  perseverance  enough  to  exercise  the  talents  given 
unto  us. 

At  Ghent  the  two  went  in  haste  to  the  cathedral  to  see  the  finest 
carving  in  wood  the  world  affords.  The  tree  of  life  supports  the  pulpit, 
and  Time,  a  venerable  old  man,  sits  at  the  foot,  attempting  to  raise  a 
veil  and  look  upon  Truth,  who  approaches  with  a  book  in  which  are  the 
words,  "  Arise,  thou  that  sleepest,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."  We 
were  sufficiently  rewarded  for  our  walk  and  hurry,  and  again  were  in  the 
cars  for  Mechlin  and  Bruges. 

One  more  night  on  the  continent,  beneath  the  Belfry  of  Bruges,  and 
what  beautiful  chimes  rang  the  night  away !  Every  quarter  of  an  hour 
a  sweet  serenade  for  the  wandering  Three  United  States  Girls,  and  the 
chimes  of  memory  often  waft  us  back  and  we  hear  them  again,  the 
Chimes  of  Bruges. 

From  Ostend  to  Dover  across  the  channel,  and  we  are  in  the  land 
where  our  native  tongue  is  spoken,  just  one  year  older  than  the  day  we 
sailed  from  New  York  harbor.  On  the  anniversary  of  that  day  we  sit 
within  the  walls  of  Westminster  Abbey,  that  antique  pile  where  the  suns 
of  empire  rise  and  set,  listening  to  the  soft  chanting  of  the  choir  and  the 
solemn  notes  of  the  organ  as  the  sun  sends  its  last  brilliant  ray  in  upon 
the  tombs  of  the  great  and  the  noble,  and  lights  up  the  pillars  and  the 
carving,  the  oak  and  the  marble  of  this  royal  burial-place  in  a  grand  and 
striking  manner.  While  we  listen  and  gaze  a  noble  array  of  churches 
rises  before  our  mind's  eye.  Far  back  on  Roman  soil  rises  that  mother 
of  Catholic  churches,  St.  Peter's,  the  largest  in  Europe  and  the  world, 
(with  one  exception).  Everywhere  in  this  most  noble  structure  appear 
the  marks  of  the  master-painter  and  sculptor  Raphael  and  Michael  An- 
gelo,  and  as  their  genius  towered  above  that  of  all  other  men  so  the  labor 
of  their  hands  rises  high  over  all.  Three  hundred  other  churches  cluster 
26 


2O2  UNITED   STATES    GIRLS 

about  the  largest  one  and  render  Rome  a  prominent  place  although  so 
far  away.  Next  rises  that  dome  which  served  as  a  model  for  St.  Peter's 
and  which  exceeds  it  in  size.  The  Duomo  of  Florence,  the  dome  which 
admits  the  light  of  heaven  upon  the  tombs  of  its  architects,  surrounding 
them  with  a  bright  halo  as  fame  illuminates  the  names  of  Giotto  and 
Brunelleschi.  There  we  see  the  picturesque  front  where  stand  the  horses 
so  well  known,  the  horses  of  St.  Mark,  and  we  remember  well  how  the 
thousand  years  have  left  the  marks  of  time  and  age  on  the  dark  walls 
within,  while  the  external  appearance  is  that  of  lightness  and  grace  and 
beauty.  The  doves  play  around  her  head  and  the  gondolas  ply  at  her 
feet  and  Venice  may  well  be  proud  of  St.  Mark.  Miles  away  rises  the 
most  beautiful  cathedral  of  Milan,  its  thousand  marble  pinnacles  tower- 
ing heavenward  like  the  peaks  of  the  Alps  in  the  far  distance.  Notre 
Dame  lifts  her  square  towers  from  the  island  in  the  Seine  and  shows  the 
spot  where  kings  and  emperors  have  had  their  day,  but  where  no  crowned 
head  now  rules.  Republic  of  France  !  Near  the  banks  of  the  Rhine 
the  spire  of  Strasburg  shows  its  lace-work  summit  —  the  tallest  of  spires 
over  that  most  wonderful  clock  which  marks  the  passage  of  time  in  many 
curious  ways.  Then  Cologne  lifts  its  unfinished  dome  over  the  city  where 
Rubens  was  born,  and  over  (they  say)  the  tombs  of  the  three  wise  men 
who  came  from  the  far  east  to  worship  Christ.  We  recognize  from  Aix- 
la-Chapelle  the  octagonal  spire  which  admits  the  rays  of  the  sun  upon 
the  tomb  of  Charlemagne  in  the  city  which  gave  him  birth  and  which 
took  its  name  from  the  same  interesting  work  commenced  by  him  in  the 
eighth  century.  Brussels,  Antwerp,  Ghent,  and  Bruges,  all  mark  this 
picture  painted  from  memory  with  their  cathedrals  most  beautifully  orna- 
mented with  carvings  in  wood  and  containing  the  most  precious  works 
of  Rubens  and  Van  Dyck.  From  all  these  churches  we  seem  to  hear  one 
continual  chant  and  to  see  one  round  of  service  performed  by  priests  and 
people  in  a  foreign  tongue,  and  we  come  back  to  the  land  of  our  fore- 


ACROSS   THE   ATLANTIC.  2O3 

fathers  to  the  language  of  our  native  land,  and  into  the  presence  of  the 
illustrious  dead,  where  one  at  least  has  found  rest  from  his  wanderings 
since  we  worshipped  before  in  Westminster  Abbey—  Dr.  Livingstone, 
borne  by  savages  from  a  savage  land,  to  sleep  at  home  in  the  midst  of 
his  friends.  Blessed  rest !  Sweet  sleep  ! 

Nine  days  in  London,  as  busy  as  three  millions  can  make  it,  and  we 
steam  away  one  hundred  miles  to  Stratford-upon-Avon, 

"  Where  his  first  infant  lays  sweet  Shakspeare  sung, 
Where  the  last  accents  faltered  on  his  tongue," 

and  here,  in  the  spot  to  which  the  genius  of  one  man  has  given  immor- 
tality, we  linger  a  day,  in  the  rooms  of  his  birth-place,  crossing  the  fields 
to  Anne  Hathaway's  cottage,  and  looking  upon  his  bust  above  the  slab 
which  covers  the  ashes  of  one  of  whom  the  world  has  never  known  the 
like.  Westminster  covets  his  precious  dust,  and  it  is  said  that  once  it 
was  nearly  removed  there;  but  the  curse  called  down  upon  those 
attempting  his  disinterment,  by  the  pen  of  the  great  poet  himself,  with- 
held them  from  accomplishing  their  designs. 

True  descendants  of  our  English  mothers,  two  of  us  went  over  the 
English  highways,  between  the  sweet  hedges  of  English  hawthorn, 
counting  the  minutes  between  the  mile-stones  till  eight  were  passed  in 
the  space  of  two  hours.  After  a  night  at  Leamington,  a  walk  of  five 
miles  brought  us  to  Kenilworth,  of  which  Scott  has  written:  —  "  Of  this 
lordly  palace,  where  princes  feasted  and  heroes  fought,  now  in  the  bloody 
earnest  of  storm  and  siege,  and  now  in  the  games  of  chivalry,  where 
beauty  dealt  the  prize  which  valor  won,  all  is  now  desolate.  The  bed 
of  the  lake  is  a  rushy  swamp,  and  the  massy  ruins  of  the  castle  only 
serve  to  show  what  their  splendor  once  was." 

To  Chester  and  Liverpool,  and  then  to  Glasgow,  ready  to  take  the 
Anchor  Line  across  the  sea,  and 

ILLUSTRATIONS.— 1.  Home  of  Shakspeare  at  Stratford-on-Avon.  2.  Monument  of  Shakspeare 
3.  Tomb  of  Bunyan  in  Bunhill  Fields,  London. 


2O4  UNITED   STATES   GIRLS. 

The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast, 
As  forth  from  Glasgow's  shores  we  passed, 
In  a  ship  that  bore  on  the  afterpart 
A  name  that  will  live  in  every  heart  — 
The  California. 

The  time  flew  by  on  golden  wing  ; 
We  had  sailed  in  tears,  we  were  landing  in  song ; 
Days  were  never  so  joyous  or  hours  so  short 
As  those  that  vanished  between  us  and  port, 
On  the  California. 

Ten  days  we  were  rocked  on  old  Ocean's  bosom,  ten  days  we  sailed 
under  a  sunny  sky,  and  out  on  the  face  of  the  broad  deep  we  celebrated 
the  ninety-eighth  birthday  of  our  glorious, Union.  We  landed  in  safety 
on  the  sixth  of  July,  and  felt  that  no  one  could  more  proudly  cry  the 

watchwords  they  had  in  the  beginning  adopted  than  the 

\ '  •    . 

\ 
INDEPENDENT  DAUGHTERS  OF  UNCLE  SAM. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

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